Shape of You
by Jbsullivan17
Summary: "Could I take your order for you guys?" A list of beers were called out. "Guinness," a deep voice said next to her and her heart stopped when she thought she recognized it. "Why do you have to one up us all the time?" one of the other guys asked. "What? I'm not supposed to like what I like because you can't handle it?... Shut up, Murphy." Clarke's face dropped, Bellamy Blake.
1. SHAPE OF YOU

Clarke knew better than to believe she was free, that her past wouldn't catch up with her. She left to escape from her mother's expectations. Expecting Clark to marry Finn even after finding out about Raven, becoming a doctor when she hated medicine. She even disapproved of Clarke's friendship with Bellamy Blake. Wells may have been Clarke's oldest friend but Bellamy was her best friend. Sure, their friendship started off rocky, literally butting heads whenever they were around each other, driving everyone around them completely insane. But it caused their friends to become friends and eventually the arguments turned into civil debates about something relevant.

Gods, she missed him. She thought he was going to kiss her when she said goodbye. Wondered if he'd have meant it if he had or if it would've been a last ditch effort to make her stay.

She hadn't gone far, just the city a few hours north. He could've found her if he looked, if he cared but now with this job of hers, she doesn't want him to find her.

It's been three years and she missed her friends but she couldn't face them.

"Wanheda," Roan called, it's not a typical stage name, Clarke knows but Roan picked the girls names after their first night working. Apparently Clarke caused a man's near coronary, and in Roan's made up language with his cousin Ontari the term "Wanheda" meant "Commander of Death." Not something one advertises, but she went with it, it made her feel stronger, like her outfit.

"Yeah?" she called back to him, adjusting the long red wig on her head.

"There's a bachelor party coming in tonight, you're on it."

"I thought Anya did the parties."

"Anya is pregnant and working behind the bar until she gets her body back."

Anya meant Mother, which was strangely fitting in her current situation.

"Oh," Clarke grimaced. "What about Niylah? She's been here longer than me."

"Because I want you to do it. Why are you giving me back talk?"

Clarke looked to the ground, letting it go. "Fine."

She waited for Roan to leave the dressing room before changing into her leather bra and micro skirt that left little to the imagination.

"Ready?" Niylah asked, she wore the blue wig today.

"Yeah, where does he have you?"

"Cage three."

"That's better than Four," Clarke offered.

"I'd rather be in One."

"Me too. Bachelor party duty."

"Did I forget to tell you about Anya?" Niylah asked.

"Yeah, I was blindsided by that. Thank you."

"Sorry, babe. You're going to kill it," she said placing a chaste kiss on Clarke's lips, as to not mess up either of their lipstick, before heading out to her cage, catching Lexa's glare.

Clarke would love to say that Roan was lucky, cornering the strip club market in Polis, but she knew better. Roan's family was feared, old-school Italian mob worthy fear.

"Just a bachelor party," Clarke reminded herself before stepping out in the hall to the bar. She's a waitress tonight, less tips but easier job.

"I hear a congrats are in order," she said to Anya behind the bar as she was mixing a cocktail.

"Stuff it, Wanheda," she said nodding to the table by Cage One. "Your party is here, don't forget their comp round of T."

Clarke grabbed a tray from the shelf, counting six heads at the table and poured each a shot of the cheapest tequila they have. She carried the tray above her head, "Hey, guys! Welcome to Azgeda. I'm Wanheda, I'll be serving you this evening. Who's the lucky groom?" Clarke asked, she walks around the place with blinders on, just looking for the wandering hands and making sure she doesn't hit anyone as she's walking through the tables.

The guys all pointed to the cute Asian she didn't really look at but saw some defining features.

"Well, congratulations from all of us. Some complimentary shots," she said handing the full shot glasses to each guy. "Could I take your order for you guys? We have all domestic beers and Goose Island IPA and Sam Adams. Guinness and Heineken as well."

"Coors."

"Michelob."

"Sam Boston."

"Sam."

"Bud."

"Guinness," a deep voice said next to her and her heart stopped when she thought she recognized it.

"Why do you have to one up us all the time?" one of the other guys asked.

"What? I'm not supposed to like what I like because you can't handle it? Shut up, Murphy."

Clarke's face dropped, she definitely knew the owner of the deep voice, she probably knew them all. Thank the Gods that she's covered in make up so they don't recognize her. Monty is getting married? "I'll get your drinks," she said, her voice faltered.

Wanheda is a façade. The red wig, make up and outfit, even her voice changes. Clarke becomes a seductress that is only every seen within the four walls of Azgeda. She isn't proud of what she does to men but some are fun to mess with. Bellamy Blake and her old friends from Arkadia certainly weren't on the list.

Clarke stepped behind the bar to get the boys their beers.

"Who's Sir Broods-a-Lot?" Anya nodded to the bachelor party.

Clarke refused to look over, refused to make sure it's actually him, Bellamy. So she shrugged, "Groomsmen?"

"Obviously, but he's watching you like a hawk, not like they normally do either."

"I knew him in college. His younger sister's best friend dated the same guy as me at the same time and after that we kept running into each other and all our friends became friends and my mom was being my mom and I left. I thought he was going to kiss me when I left."

"Would you have left if he did?"

"Depends on what I felt," Clarke shrugged. If Bellamy kissed her three years ago, she would have finished art school. She would have stayed, he made her mother bearable.

She placed Bellamy's Guinness on the tray with the rest of the table's beers and headed back over.

"Wanheda, wonderful," Jasper said. If only he knew. "When's the next show?"

"Natblida should be out in a minute, she's wonderful," Clarke smiled back at him.

The next few hours went by smoothly, she did her scheduled dance, leaving the bachelor party to fend for themselves for five minutes. She served them another hour before Roan pulled her aside, someone wanted a dance in a private room.

Clarke nodded and went to the hall with the rooms and opened the door to find Bellamy sitting in the chair. She nearly froze, but quickly held her composure together to hide her true self. He can't know. "You wanted a dance?" she asked.

"No."

"Oh, these rooms are for dances, you shouldn't—"

"Clarke," he said. She knew it was a test. She knew he knew, he's spent the whole night staring at her, he had to know.

"I don't know who that is."

"That's a wig, Princess, you think I'd forget your eyes? It's been three years, I think your mom got the point."

Clarke grimaced, "If you don't want a dance then I have to go."

"What if I kiss you?" he asked.

"You'd get kicked out, ruining your friend's night."

"You know his name and you know I meant three years ago. If I kissed you, would you have stayed? Anya said you would've."

"Anya spoke to you?" she scoffed in disbelief.

"She confirmed you're my princess."

"Yours? No one is yours, people aren't possessions."

"There she is," he smirked. Shit. "Anyway, if I did, would it have changed anything?"

"I'm not your princess, I—I don't know."

He stood and closed the distance between them, she shouldn't allow this, she should leave or do her damn job. This isn't allowed but this is Bellamy, she can't be Wanheda around him.

"You may have changed, but you once were my princess," he whispered, stripping the wig off her head, revealing the shorter blonde waves.

"It's a wig, so what?"

"Clarke," he sighed, tired of her lie but she has to or she'll go back with him and she can't go back to Arkadia.

"That's not my name."

"Wanheda, we miss you. You know where I'll be when you're tired of dancing for Roan fucking King," he said angrily, shoving the wig at her and stormed out of the private room.

Clarke was adjusting her wig when Roan walked in a minute later. "Everything okay? He went in for a dance and came out annoyed, do I have to tell him the rules?"

"No, his party is from my hometown, he wanted me to confess that I'm me, but I—if I do, I'd have to go back and I can't go back there."

"So tell him and tell him you can't go. The customer is always right, right? Well, no touching. If you're his fantasy, be his fantasy for the night. He paid for it, didn't he?"

Clarke shook her head, "I can't dance for him."

"Ex?"

"No, my best friend, it'd be weird."

"Weirder than him finding you working at a strip club?"

"Equally as weird, but dancing for him would be more awkward."

"What do you want, Clarke?"

"I wanted to escape my mother, after that, I didn't really think about."

"And you just left your friends behind?"

"I said goodbye to Monty and Bellamy, they needed to hear it from me. I just—if it was this big thing, telling everyone, I couldn't have left."

"So, you told Monty and Bellamy and then left?"

"Yes."

Roan thought for a moment and Clarke always hated when he thought because things never go right when that happens.

"Get back to work, Wanheda."

Clarke rolled her eyes and went out to Anya. "Shortest dance I've ever seen," she said placing a lime on the rim of a glass, looked like a rum and coke.

"I didn't dance."

"And your wig is askew," she reached up to adjust it, Clarke knew she'd be smelling lime for a week. "No dance? Did he get handsy?"

Clarke scoffed, Bellamy handsy? That's funny. "No, he just wanted me to be someone I'm not."

"He wanted you to be Clarke?" she asked softly so the guy down the bar couldn't hear.

Clarke opened her mouth to answer but then Murphy was leaning against the bar. "What's a guy got to do to get some service?"

"I'll be right over," Clarke told him and he scoffed, turning back to the table of boys. And Clarke found Roan and Bellamy talking to each other while the other guys spoke to each other.

"That doesn't look good."

"Oh, fuck. What is Roan doing?"

"Making amends for your lack of a dance," Anya offered.

"I should probably get over there."

"Have fun," Anya grumbled, taking the drink she made to its buyer. Clarke headed over to the bachelor party.

"Wanheda," Roan nodded and Bellamy's head whipped around and she avoided his gaze.

"Does anybody need anything?" she asked with her sweetest smile.

"I would love a dance from Natblida," she heard, finding Murphy.

"We can make that happen," Roan smiled. "Wanheda, we need to talk."

Clarke nodded, making sure that the rest of the party didn't need anything before following Roan to his office.

"He paid for a dance."

"And he walked out before I could do my job," she argued.

"And he still gets a dance."

"Since when? You love telling people no."

"He is your friend, Clarke, I don't know what happened, what made you run, but if he can't get you, you can do your job and dance for him."

"Or I can quit."

"Are you going to quit?"

"If I go back in that room with him, he's taking me home. Do you want that?"

"You're one of my best girls, but if that's what you want—"

"Whether I want it or not, it's going to happen, he's that good."

Roan squared his shoulders and Clarke knew he didn't believe her. "Do your job, Wanheda."

Clarke sighed and nodded, walking back out to the floor, her eyes landing on Bellamy's almost immediately. He's always watched her, he watched all his friends carefully, but this was different. The way his eyes were on her, the relief in them for knowing that she's Clarke Griffin and not Wanheda or dead, it was like he was worried for the three years they were separated. Of course he was.

She walked right over to him and grabbed his hand, practically yanked him out of his chair.

"What are you doing?" he asked once they were in the hallway.

"My job."

"Clarke…" he sighed.

She opened the door and they went inside, she closed the door behind them, locking the door and having him sit in the leather chair in the center of the room.

"My name is Wanheda. That's what you're going to call me."

"I don't want this."

"You paid for it."

"I paid for fifteen minutes with Clarke, not fifteen minutes with _Wanheda_."

"Clarke isn't here, she doesn't exist."

"Don't say that."

She pushed the button on the remote by the door and spun back around to look at Bellamy as the intro of the song began. "We're not leaving until I dance. It's what you paid for regardless of what you say, that is what you paid for."

 _We should be together,_ was whisper-sung over the speakers and Clarke wanted to kill Roan. He would… he shouldn't have, this whole thing, this whole situation is going to send her home with Bellamy and she didn't want that. She didn't want to see her mother ever again but she's going to have to. She stifled her love for the man sitting in front of her but she can't do this without feeling something. She can't pretend he's someone else. She can't fake her facials.

Her hips swayed to the music and she danced in front of Bellamy, hating that he was who she was dancing for. Hating that he didn't want this just as much as she didn't.

"Clarke, please. Stop," he said, his voice strained.

Clarke spun around and avoided looking into his eyes, avoided his hair, just stared at his chest as her body snapped and swayed to the song.

She finally knelt on either side of his hips, giving him a lap dance. She couldn't control her own emotions, she didn't want to be this close to him this way.

"Don't call me that," she said, her words breaking.

"Can I touch you?"

"No," she breathed, grinding down, into his lap.

 _No friends, no phone, just a little sex with the Netflix on._ Clarke's mind drifted to years ago when she and Bellamy were friends and they actually spent a whole day on the couch binge watching the first season of _Hemlock Grove_ on Netflix. It broke her, her silent sobs went with the stupid, emotionally charged song. She tried hiding her face from him, her fucking boobs in his face.

"Please, Clarke, don't cry. He's making you do this, I get it. Come back with me, you don't have to see your mom, you can stay with me."

"Please, stop," she sighed, getting off him and shook her ass in his face.

"I can't. I can't leave without you, not after finally finding you."

Clarke collapsed to the floor, curling herself in a ball, the song wasn't over, but she couldn't finish. She couldn't allow herself to feel everything she was, she couldn't go with him, she couldn't accept that he wants her like she wants—wanted—him. "You haven't been looking."

"You said goodbye, I wasn't ready for goodbye. Come back with me. Screw the guys, screw your mom, come back for me."

Clarke shook her head, "I—I can't, Bellamy."

"I forgive you, they forgive you. We need you, I need you."

"Do you know how hard it was to leave? How I almost turned back because I was going to miss you."

"You missed me?"

"Of course I did! You—you're my best friend."

"How? It's been three years! No phone calls or texts, nothing to tell me that you're safe and I come out for Monty's bachelor party and find you working for this asshole. You're dancing around half naked for strange men—"

"Are you jealous? You rather me be dancing for you?"

"If that's what you want. I—you're important to me, Clarke. I just want—"

"I don't love you, Bellamy," she said, the words breaking her heart even more. "I can't love you."

"I don't need you to, I just want to know that you're okay. That you're happy."

"I'm happy," she choked out.

"You don't look happy."

"Because I'm crying! I just had to dance for you. I can't do this! It killed me to do this."

Bellamy got up and knelt in front of Clarke, cupping her jaw to look at him. "Then don't, but if this is what you want. You want to stay here and work for fucking Roan, at least call me every once in a while to let me know you're okay."

Clarke nodded, her head falling against his shoulder.

"I've worried about you every day, I know you wouldn't want me to, but you're like family to me, so I worry."

"Thank you, Bell. Could you—please don't tell them that it's me. I—I don't think I could look at them if they knew."

"Fine, but they're going to see right through my fake grimace."

"Don't let it be fake, I'm not going with you, that's what you want."

"I want you safe and you say this is safe."

Clarke didn't say anything, couldn't. This wasn't safe in the way that Bellamy wanted it to be. Roan tried keeping them safe, but more often than not he failed. Clarke couldn't tell Bellamy that, she couldn't tell him that what happens in the private rooms stays in the private rooms, because the other girls talked. She's been lucky but she knew her time will come, that she will be the one that has something unsavory to share with Niylah and Lexa.

"They were about to leave when you dragged me in here. May we meet again," he said, pulling away from Clarke, standing.

She looked up to find his hand out to help her up. She took it and looked him in the eyes, "I hate those words."

"Humor me, Princess."

"Princesses don't wear lingerie to work."

"Clarke."

"May we meet again," she said weakly, that's what she said to him when she left three years ago. He knew that and knew how hard it's going to be staying away, but maybe that was his point. She shouldn't stay away.

Bellamy walked out the door, giving Clarke one last look before letting the door close between them, leaving Clarke to collect herself before heading back out, finding the table that held her old friends earlier was empty.

"Your lover is gone," Anya said at the bar.

"He's not my… what did you say to him?"

"He asked who you were, but I didn't tell him. I didn't say that you know him, that he knows you. He just knew, left his number in case you lost it."

"I—I didn't."

"From the quiver in his voice, he cares immensely about you."

"I know," Clarke said, her voice breaking. "I just can't go back there, that town is filled with horrible memories."

"This place isn't much better, Cl—Wanheda. I'm not telling you what to do, but I'd go with him if I could."

"We aren't like that, I was his sister's best friend, she was mine. After a while it went from me asking her for advice and going to her when I got news to him, he was my best friend, but she's always more important to him and I don't want that to change, it's that sibling bond they have. But after what happened, I just can't be in that town, losing him was hard, but I can't—" Clarke shook her head, not really knowing where she was taking it, her freaking emotions were on overdrive. Another reason she can't be around Bellamy Blake, the aftershocks are worse than the earthquake.


	2. NO MORE RUNNING

Clarke knocked on the door, her heart beating out of her chest. She had nowhere else to go, no one left to turn to though she wouldn't trade him for the world.

The door opened and the young girl that answered the door looked confused though Clarke would recognize her anywhere. "Clarke? What?"

Octavia Blake was fifteen when Clarke last saw her, almost four years ago when she left Arkadia. She's gorgeous and Clarke realized how large the impact of her leaving had. She was Bellamy's friend but she'd became Octavia's confidante and Clarke left her behind without so much as a goodbye which definitely wasn't good for Octavia's already fragile psyche, thanks to her mother.

"Is—is he here?" Clarke's voice broke, the events of the last twenty-four hours beginning to get to her.

"No, he's—he's at the high school. Teaches history now."

Clarke nodded and turned to the road to drive to him.

"Clarke, what's going on?" Octavia asked concerned.

"I'm so sorry I left, O. You deserve better than me."

"Why are you here?"

"I need Bellamy."

"He needed you four years ago and you abandoned him!"

"I have to go."

"Don't you dare get him fired. He's finally okay without you," she called after Clarke as she walked back to her car. "You know he deserves that job!"

Clarke got in the car, she knew Octavia was right, but she also wouldn't feel safe without him. She has to see him.

Once she was at the high school, Clarke snuck in through the gym like she used to with Finn before—before Raven. She walked through the halls of nostalgia, so many smiles, so many tears, another reason she left.

She walked the halls and peeked into classrooms and "…left for exile, replaced by Publius Valerius Publicola. That's a loaded name, keep him in your thoughts, but don't get used to him. King Tarquin's reign is long from over."

Clarke looked into the room the deep voice boomed from and her erratic heart calmed. Bellamy was so in his element, looking like one of the Gods he always read about. He turned to write on the board, his eyes caught on her and he froze. Licking his lips he shook his head.

She stepped forward, into the classroom, feeling every eye on her before she closed the gap between them, her arms flung around his neck. "I lied to you," her words unsteady.

"I know," Bellamy pulled away, cupping her face.

Clarke shook her head, "I wasn't safe, I—I need you."

"Go to my house, I'll leave right after the last bell."

"I angered someone. I don't want to be alone."

"Kane is principal, go to him. He'll protect you until I'm done for the day."

"My… He'll tell her," Clarke shook her head frantically.

"Princess, I am losing their attention. I now have fifteen minutes to teach them a half hours' worth of Roman history. Take my desk, you can stay here."

"Thank you, Bell," Clarke grimaced, stepping away from him. She moved further into the room, closer to the windows. She feared for her life, knew Bellamy would protect her. How could she deny him her heart?

She listened to his lesson, his passion shining through and within minutes, her fingers itched to draw. She—she hadn't had the urge since she'd left.

She pulled a sheet of paper from the printer behind her and grabbed the red pen, not caring of mistakes, just needing to draw again.

The bell rang, jolting her from her drawing. Octavia.

"Chapters twelve and thirteen are your homework tonight. You know the questions and bonus still stand!" Bellamy called as his students noisily packed up their books.

"Mr. Blake, is she your girlfriend?" a boy called.

"A dear friend," Bellamy smiled at Clarke.

Clarke knew the students were skeptical, she would have been too if one of her teachers had a strange visitor that had a sketchy hushed conversation in the middle of class and then stuck around looking scared as hell.

"What happened?" he asked once his classroom was empty.

"Don't you have another class?"

"Freshmen, horrible time management skills, the one class I close my door at final bell. Did someone hurt you? You haven't texted me in six weeks, I was about to drive up and check on you."

"That was the point, Bell. I needed you to come get me. I—I couldn't do it myself. Anya came back, she gave me the out I needed."

"What happened?"

"It started innocent, nothing bad. He just watched, always left a large tip. Then asked for a dance, it was weird, but Roan said not to worry. Then he touched me, held my hips. I told Roan after the second time and he reminded the guy of the rules. He backed off for a week and came back with a vengeance. He—he was choking me, Bell." She watched his eyes dart down to her throat. "Make up, Roan kept a close eye and caught him. Told Derek, the security guard, that he's banned. He hung out back a few times waiting for me. He followed me home the other night so I—I stayed with Niylah last night before leaving this morning."

"You should have called me the second he put his hands on you. Hell, I should have forced you to come back to me last year!" he exclaimed, he can be angry. He should be.

"Bell—"

"I know, you would've left again. I would have made it worse."

Clarke smiled, how did she possibly stay away from him for so long? How could she shove down the hold he has on her? She loved Lexa, it was consuming and exactly what she needed, but Lexa tried turning her into someone she isn't, someone like Costia. Clarke couldn't be what Lexa needed so they broke up. Niylah wanted more than Clarke could give her after Lexa. Clarke still wasn't over the breakup but Bellamy made losing Finn easier, he can do it again, help her love again. Love him, the one that's always been there for her, the one she can't bear to lose.

Bang! They jolted apart, Bellamy nearly fell over, catching his elbow on the edge of his desk. His eyes caught on the drawing of Octavia. "Red isn't really her color."

Clarke smirked, "You got another color?"

"I'm a teacher, I have every pen color."

"Pink?"

Bellamy scoffed, "My desk is yours, just don't look in my folders or grade book, I don't need FERPA on my ass."

"Go teach, loser," Clarke chuckled, she missed this.

He rolled his eyes as the bell rang and he crossed the room to close the door. Clarke noticed six empty chairs, knowing she'll hear a pounding on the door in thirty seconds.

"Mr. Blake!" an eager girl in the first row called, shaking her raised hand avidly and Clarke smirked, Bellamy made fun of her for doing that in their chemistry class.

"Yes, Aylee?"

"If Benedict Arnold was trying to protect his family, why—"

"Parents will do anything to protect their children, even betray their cause and best friend," Clarke said before cringing, she didn't mean to.

Bellamy smirked, "Class, this is Miss Griffin, she's supposed to be observing today, but can't seem to control herself. Just like in Mr. Green's chemistry class."

"Please! It's not like you actually knew the answers."

"Not the point."

"I'm shutting up now, Grumpy. Teach your students."

"Mm," Bellamy hummed, Clarke saw the fire burning behind his eyes, just as they did when she said goodbye four years ago and she wondered if he was going to kiss her.

She still wonders that, but also how many of his students have a crush on him. She looked around and saw three ogling him and smiled, definitely seeing what they saw in him.

Clarke shook the thought out of her head, finding a black pen in his drawer, fixing her drawing of Octavia, happy that Bellamy allowed her to stay.

Saying that Bellamy soothed and calmed Clarke doesn't do him any justice. That he makes her feel safe, doesn't either because he ignites a fire within her. Clarke's intelligence rivaled Bellamy's, igniting arguments that lasted hours due to their stubbornness and need to be correct. To be the last one standing. Half the time they were over the most ridiculous things, those were the ones that worked Clarke up the most. The frivolity of the argument. Half the time she'd go home and get herself off and over the edge, her best orgasms caused by him. Not that she could ever tell him that. That's not how he wants to be with her.

* * *

Clarke walked into the house with her purse in hand, Bellamy insisted on carrying her duffel bag with all her things crammed inside, into the house himself. Again, being Clarke's knight. Not that she thought herself a princess, she couldn't, that's Bellamy's thing. She can save herself physically, she had the guy off her before Roan entered the room, but emotionally Clarke was a train wreck.

"So you can take my room until I clean out my mom's room, you can have that once that's done."

"You're the one who'll be working. Keep your bed, I got the couch."

"I'm not letting you sleep on my lumpy couch."

"You just made my point for me, you're not sleeping on a lumpy couch tonight and then spending all day tomorrow standing in front of a classroom teaching teenagers with absolutely no boundaries wondering why you're walking funny with a newly slipped disc. You really want them thinking you had a rigorous night of debauchery with your friend?"

"Remind me again why you dropped out of pre med," Bellamy said, avoiding the insinuation.

Clarke looked away, embarrassed of her ignored insinuation while she blinked the memory of fixing Roan's back after falling asleep on the couch in his office too many times. "I just know what can happen."

"Still don't talk about it?"

"I don't think about it, Bellamy. It's too much."

He nodded, he remembered, held her that night and said goodbye the morning after. "I'm here when you're ready."

Clarke nodded, "Where's O?"

"Probably Lincoln's," he said casually. One does not speak casually about their nineteen year old sister and former room advisor who's twenty eight.

"RA Lincoln?" Clarke grimaced.

"Don't. it's happening and I don't want to think about it."

Clarke's grimace was nearly permanent with the thousand questions flowing through her brain but she knew not to push Bellamy on the topic of Octavia. "She told me where to find you."

"I should have told you that I worked at the high school, just in case. You okay with her knowing you're here?"

"She'd have found out anyway," she shrugged.

"Yeah, but she can tell someone."

"They'll find out too. It's okay, Bell."

He nodded, Clarke knew he was worried about the man finding her. She was too but she still had Bellamy.

"Would you mind if I took a shower? I'm feeling gross after the drive."

"Of course, everything should be in there for you. The blue towel on the rack is yours."

Clarke smiled, somethings haven't changed, "I remember."

"I'll start on dinner."

Clarke took the duffel bag from Bellamy, taking it to the bathroom down the hallway. Once in the shower she scrubbed her skin and scalp until she couldn't feel the man's hands any longer, knowing the feeling would be back in the morning.

She refused to look in the mirror, refused to acknowledge the ugly bruises wrapped around her throat and the one on the side of her eye where he'd slapped her, his ring causing the damage.

Sifting through the duffel bag, Clarke realized she had grabbed all her dirty laundry, and nothing that she could exactly wear in mixed company. She was either home or working at the club so layers weren't exactly important.

Clarke found a clean pair of grey boy shorts and pulled them up over her thighs before grabbing the least wrinkled shirt she found, a white tank top, to throw on to go ask Bellamy if she could borrow sweats until she does laundry.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Clarke's nostrils came into contact with a scent she spent years dreaming about. She turned the corner leading to the kitchen, finding Bellamy's back to her at the stove as he stirred the creamy sauce. She walked over to him and hugged him, his body tensed at the sudden touch before relaxing. "Thank you," she said.

"It's your favorite, right? With mushrooms."

"Yes, but I meant for everything."

"Look me in the eye when you answer my next question."

Clarke took a step back, her arms falling to her sides and he turned around, worry suddenly taking over his features. "Oh, my God, Clarke!" She knew he wanted to touch the bruises but held back and Clarke was appreciative, she didn't want to remember what happened to her, especially not with Bellamy's hands.

"I'm fine. You have a question."

The muscle in Bellamy's jaw jumped and Clarke had the sudden urge to touch it.

"Are you going to leave again?"

"No," Clarke answered a little too quickly but she's being honest, she can't leave again.

Bellamy nodded, his eyes darted down to her body, definitely not checking her out. "What are you wearing?"

"I came out here to ask to borrow sweats, I haven't done laundry in a couple weeks."

Bellamy smirked, "I remember. Turn the burners off while I get you something."

She nodded as he walked away, turning the burners off on the stove, the Alfredo sauce bubbling perfectly.

"I thought Octavia might have some clothes here but I guess she took everything to her dorm. These are going to be big," Bellamy said startling Clark a little as he placed the clothes on the counter next to her. A worn down navy blue shirt from college and grey sweatpants, meaning he definitely noticed her nipples protruding through the thin fabric of her tank top and Clarke didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

"I only needed pants," she pressed in as normal a tone as she could muster.

"Take the damn shirt, Clarke," he said normally, though his eyes were darker than ever.

Clarke opened her mouth to argue the point but said "thank you" again.

He nodded and side stepped her to start preparing their plates for dinner.

* * *

After dinner they settled on the couch, Bellamy still favored the right arm rest leaving the rest to Clarke. "You still watch Supernatural?"

"No, I haven't had Wednesdays off and it's gotten repetitive. I was watching How to Get Away with Murder but Wes and Laurel's family bullshit really pissed me off and the pregnancy twist was obvious. I want a show that challenges me intellectually, you know? Not something that's been done time and time again."

"You know, it's nicknamed 'boob tube' because it's mindless."

"And yet, we've both been raised on it and we're both perfectly functioning adults."

"You functioning?" Bellamy scoffed.

"I've had a rough few years." Clarke poked him with her toe and he grabbed her ankle. "But I've never been late paying my bills."

"Because that's all being an adult is about." He tugged on her ankle, pulling her closer to him before promptly letting her foot go. "So a documentary on Caesar is in your wheelhouse tonight?"

"Are you going to talk the whole time?" she asked, poking him with her foot again.

"Are you going to throw popcorn at me?" he tickled the sole of her foot and Clarke surged up into the offensive while laughing through Bellamy's onslaught.

Once he stopped and Clarke caught her breath, difficult as it was with the teasing look in his eyes, he said, "I haven't bought your ammo of choice in four years."

"Oh," Clark grimaced, adjusting herself to sit on the couch properly. He'd given up on her. He was fine knowing he'd never see her again. The one person she thought wouldn't give up on her was the one that did.

"Clarke—"

"It's fine. I wasn't coming back and you stopped buying my snack of choice, I don't blame you."

"I couldn't just stop my life because you walked away. Life goes on whether I wanted it to or not."

"Who am I to tell you what to do with your life when I wasn't there?"

"Then stop acting like I'm the bad guy."

"I'm not."

"Good, because I worried about you. I lived my life but I worried about you. I'd be sitting here watching a documentary about Tutankhamen and talking through it expecting a piece of popcorn to be thrown at me or visiting my mom, reaching for your hand on instinct to center me. Then Gina—"

Clarke's head snapped to him and the grimace strewn across his face. "Who's Gina?"

Bellamy shook his head, "I was seeing her for about six months two years ago."

"You… were seeing someone exclusively for six months?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?" Clarke asked then shook her head, it's none of her business. "No, you don't have to tell me."

"I liked her. I probably could have loved her but I didn't integrate her into my life. I was either with her or with our friends or Octavia. They were always separate from her and I didn't know that I was doing it let alone that it was wrong."

Clarke smirked, "Lexa and I dated for two months before we told anyone at work, but it ended horribly after a year and a half so…"

"You tripled my time."

Clarke nodded, she didn't want to talk about their past relationship failures. She didn't want to talk about her time away, all the time they—she—wasted. She wanted to be here with Bellamy, throwing popcorn at him while he talked along with a History Channel documentary he recorded.

Bellamy placed his hand on Clarke's knee, immediately removed it, remembering. "It's okay, I know you'll never hurt me."

* * *

Clarke's words rang through Bellamy's head while the Caesar documentary played on the TV. I know you'll never hurt me. He has and he certainly can't guarantee that he won't. The thought plagued him.

He whispered little added details into Clarke's temple, her head rested on his shoulder. Selfishly wishing she cared for him as he did her, her nearly nonexistent tank top and underwear show deepened his desire. He fell in love with her long before he realized how important she was to him after he lost her. He can't do anything to screw this up and lose her again, he doesn't think he could bear it.

After a while Clarke's breathing evened out and Bellamy smirked, grateful that she could get some sleep after everything she's been through this last week.

Once the documentary was over, Bellamy decided to let Clarke sleep peacefully, trying to adjust her so he could get off the sofa but somehow managed to be properly laying down on the couch with Clarke clinging to him like a spider monkey.

"Clarke," he whispered, her only response was grinding her hips, her core, into his thigh, which… FUCK! Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead fucking puppies. It worked, luckily. He couldn't stay on the couch with her, it'd mean too much.

He decided to stay until he knew she wouldn't wake up, this little snore that was insanely adorable, only to fall asleep himself before hearing it.

Waking up to his alarm the next morning was surreal. He didn't know where he was let alone where the loud beeping was coming from to stop it. Managing to get out from under Clarke, he found his nearly dead phone in the kitchen, at least ten texts from Octavia warning him not to get attached to Clarke.

He plugged his phone in to charge and went to shower, getting dressed for a long day of teaching. "Thank God it's Friday" couldn't be truer.

Bellamy grabbed a coffee and bagel at Harper's bakery where she grimaced at him. "You're early."

"Didn't get to plan my lessons last night, have to go in early to do that."

"Pop quiz, it's what my mom always did."

"I promised I'd never do a pop quiz, but desperate times," Bellamy shrugged.

"So what captivated your attention last night?"

"Insanely inaccurate Caesar documentary." Half-truth but Clarke doesn't want people knowing yet.

Harper laughed, "I should have known. Have a good day, Bellamy."

He smiled and left, his next stop being the high school. He hated being here when he doesn't have to be, really hated being early. He walked in, the halls eerily quiet and walked to his classroom, where he quickly put together a pop quiz before reaching for his phone that wasn't… he left it on his nightstand charging. "Shit," he sighed.

"Good morning to you too," Echo smirked walking into the room.

"I left my phone at home."

She nodded, "Kane asked to speak with you before classes start."

Bellamy grimaced, getting sent to the principal's office, literally. It feels the same way it did when he was a student. "Might as well get it over with," he groaned.

Echo walked to the office with him and Bellamy knew she liked him and he didn't want to lead her on but didn't want to make work awkward by letting her down.

Kane's door was open, but Bellamy knocked anyway, Echo sat at her desk typing away at her computer.

"Bellamy! Come in and close the door," Kane half greeted.

Bellamy did and sat across from his mentor.

"This is a social meeting, Bellamy. Relax."

"I'm sorry, Sir, it's the principal's office stigma. I spent a lot of time here in high school."

"I remember sending you here once a month. I hope Jaha wasn't too hard on you."

"At the time I thought he was but he wasn't. So, what's going on?"

"What's this I hear about a Miss Griffin in your afternoon classes yesterday?"

Bellamy grimaced, he knew he shouldn't have used her name when explaining her to his class. Knew Kane would have heard through the grapevine, but still did anyway. "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

"Clarke Griffin? Your partner in crime your senior year here. My step-daughter."

"We were talking about griffins in world history. Mythical half eagle half lion creature."

"Bellamy," Kane sighed.

"Fine, please don't tell Abby, she's in a bad place."

"Where was she?"

"You don't want the answer to that."

"Is she planning on staying?"

"I hope so, but it's Clarke, she does what she wants."

"And you're okay if she leaves again?"

"You remember how I was last year? I saw her and it nearly broke me. I'm probably going with her if she does."

"Bellamy—"

"She can't run away from everything," he said sternly.

"Don't ruin your life for a girl," Kane told him.

"Who else is there?"

"You have a family here."

"I have friends and Octavia is always welcome wherever I am, she knows that."

"Your friends will miss you, Bellamy."

"I need her, Kane."

"How long have you been in love with her?"

"I don't—" Bellamy shook his head. "I think before the accident I realized she meant more to me than just a friend, best friend even. Then she left and didn't know how to deal with it. It was like a void but also like my heart was ripped out of my chest."

"That's called heartbreak," Kane added.

"Yeah, the same thing happened last year after I saw her. After all that, if I lose her again… I won't be able to handle it."

Kane nodded, "I won't tell Abby, no one will pressure Clarke to stay when they find out she's back."

Bellamy nodded, hating that someone else knew and it hasn't even been a day.

* * *

"You left your phone," he heard during his lunch period.

He looked up to find Clarke standing in his doorway and he couldn't help but smile. She was wearing the same torn jeans she wore yesterday and his old Mecca hoodie. Her hair was adorably unkempt, like she tried, but her waves won out in the end. "I did."

"You should have woke me up."

"You were exhausted last night and looked so peaceful."

Clarke smirked stepping into the room and Bellamy realized that she didn't cover her bruises.

"Kane knows you're back, he said he won't tell Abby."

Her face dropped and Bellamy would do anything to bring a smile to her face.

"You didn't have to bring me my phone, I would have come home to get it."

Clarke nodded.

"What's wrong, Princess?"

"You know you have no food in your house?" she said nearly just as quickly, she's avoiding his questions.

Bellamy chuckled, "There's food you just have to make it. The fact that you still only eat premade meals is horrible."

"I wasn't made to be a chef."

Bellamy watched Clarke stand in the middle of his classroom and he wondered what she was thinking, what he could do to help her, if she needed to get anything from Polis.

"Do you need to go back to Polis for anything? I'll take you, make sure that guy—" he stopped himself when Clarke shook her head with a bright smile.

"You can't stop your life for me, you have plans this weekend. Miller and Raven have been texting you, they woke me up actually. Go hang out with them, I—"

"What if I'd rather spend the weekend with you? I apparently need groceries."

"Don't stop your life for me."

"I'm not, I'm not leaving you alone in my apartment with no food while I hang out with a bunch of people who want to know you're okay and I can't tell them."

"You can tell them."

"Clarke—"

"Don't. I—I know why I came back and maybe I shouldn't have, I'm burdening you. I—I should just go to California or somewhere he won't find me."

"Why did you come back if you shouldn't have?"

"Because I—you make me feel safe, Bell. I needed that yesterday."

"So stay! God, Clarke, you don't realize the effect you have on people! You can't pop in and out and expect people to be okay with that. I was devastated when you left, I'm lucky everyone is still friends with me. And then coming back after seeing you, begging you to come home, I almost moved to Polis with no plan, no job, just so I could keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe, but I didn't. I knew you'd send me back here. You can't just leave again, not this time, not without me."

"I can't ask you to up end your life for me. I'm a stripper, Bellamy, we're a dime a dozen."

"You're not! You are Clarke Griffin, you're nearly a doctor. You're worth more than you think you do."

"Bellamy—"

The bell rang and Bellamy didn't know if he was angry or thankful that his classroom is going to be filled with fifteen year olds and he won't be able to finish this conversation with her.

She walked over to him at his desk and placed his phone on it and she pulled away. "I'm going to get some food, a few things I can make myself this weekend."

"Clarke—"

"I'll be gone by Monday."

"Please don't."

"I can't live with all the memories here."

"It wasn't your fault. It was a car accident, your response time was perfect, you analyzed the situation and helped the people that were hurt the most first. You did your job."

"Twenty people died!"

"You saved who you could. How can you not see that?"

"Because twenty people still died!" she exclaimed as Charlie walked in the door, freezing at her outburst.

"Charlie, take your seat. Miss Griffin, either come sit down or…" Bellamy shook his head. "We need to discuss your decision."

"I—" Clarke walked over to him and he saw the tears rolling down her face.

"You're shouting in my classroom with students coming in and these kids saw you yesterday and you didn't cover your neck or forehead today so they're going to ask questions if you don't cover up," he whispered as two more students walked in. "Are you staying or going?"

"Going, I—I'll go back to your apartment."

"Harper's bakery, it has really good coffee if you're interested. She can keep a secret."

"She can," Clarke agreed and leaned in, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare leave me again."

Clarke gave him a weak smile before throwing her hood on to hide her bruises, "I'll see you at three."

The bell rang and Clarke fought with a group of kids walking into class to get out.

"Alright, class, pop quiz. If you've been studying, you should be fine, if not, you're screwed."


	3. LIVIN' ON MY SOFA

Clarke practically ran out of the school to her car. She couldn't hold back her tears. She didn't cry about it when it happened four years ago, she couldn't she was working and had another call to get to. Then she couldn't think about it so she dropped out of school and moved to Polis and chose dancing on a pole instead of EMS work because it's literally what she was avoiding.

She didn't want to think about it, she didn't even remember half of what happened once the day ended and she tried thinking about what happened. It's what she hated the most, not being able to write the report when she needed to.

Once Clarke calmed down, she reached into her purse, pulling out her foundation and started working on covering her bruises, she really didn't expect to see anyone today, thought the sweatshirt and her hair would cover it, but Bellamy saw instantly, then again they're so attuned to each other even with four years away from each other, he's attentive.

Fifteen minutes later Clarke walked into McIntyre Pie-R, laughing at the name, it was witty and cleaver and so Harper, she loved it. The inside was a mixture of town history and with a modern vibe that Clarke knew screamed Harper. There wasn't a line at the counter but there were patrons seated in booths. Clarke stood at the counter looking at all the items she could choose from.

"Hi, what can I get you?" a young man, college age, asked.

"Um, is—is Harper here?"

"I think she's baking something in the back, I'll go get her."

Clarke smiled as the boy walked back to where she assumed the kitchen was. He came out a moment later and said Harper would be out in a minute and asked if he could get her anything while she waited.

"Whatever Bellamy Blake usually gets is fine."

He nodded and got to work on whatever Clarke just ordered, trusting Bellamy's instincts.

"Oh, my God!" she heard a minute later and turned to find Harper gaping at her from the doorway the boy used minutes ago.

Clarke smiled, Harper's pregnant! Why the hell didn't Bellamy tell her that? "Hey, Harper."

"You're really here? You're back. Does—does Bellamy know?"

"Bellamy, Octavia, Kane and you."

Harper walked as fast as she could around the counter and hugged her tightly.

"I can't believe you're pregnant! I mean, I know you married Monty last year, but _pregnant_ congratulations!"

"Thank you, it was a surprise but a happy one, we wanted to be married a year before trying but we definitely don't regret it. When did you get here?"

Harper dragged Clarke over to an empty booth to sit and talk, pregnancy and all that.

"Yesterday. I ran into Octavia while looking for Bell. I didn't want anyone to know because I don't know if I'm staying. Bellamy's been pretty adamant."

"Wonder why," Harper said dryly and Clarke grimaced. "Can I ask why now?"

"It's complicated but Bellamy found me last May and he didn't like my situation. It wasn't sketchy but it wasn't entirely safe so I agreed to text him once a week to let him know I was okay. The last few months I haven't been safe. I was finally allowed to leave yesterday."

"Allowed?"

"The less you know the better," Clarke grimaced as the guy brought over her coffee and a poppy bagel with cream cheese.

"So that's why Bellamy was almost fired last year. You wouldn't come home with him."

"He was almost fired?"

"He had them watch the history channel, some kids swore they smelled alcohol on him. Kane saved his job."

"I had no clue."

"We didn't know that he found you. If he told someone, anyone, we could have helped him."

"I didn't know he was a mess, I would have talked to him more, not just let him know I was okay, more somehow."

"Might have made him worse, he loves you, Clarke."

Clarke looked at the untouched bagel in front of her and grimaced. _Like a sister_ , she knows, he's always tried protecting her like he does Octavia.

"So Octavia knows?"

"Yeah, she's not happy and texted Bellamy too many times last night telling him to not get used to me and I pretty much told him I was leaving."

"Are you leaving?"

"I don't know."

"Is he bringing you to Raven's party tomorrow?"

"I'm not ready for everyone to know, a slow progression. I didn't want Kane to know but I was at the high school so of course he knows, he promised not to tell my mom."

"So you don't want me to tell anyone?"

"Not yet, please."

"I can't lie to Monty."

"Okay, but he can't tell Jasper. The second Jasper knows, everyone knows."

"Too true. I have to get back to the cookies, but it was good to see you! We've missed you around here."

Clarke smiled. "I've missed everyone too," she said sincerely.

Harper nodded. "Jayden!" she called to the boy behind the counter. "She's covered."

He nodded and Clarke objected.

"Take it as a welcome back."

"Thank you, Harper."

* * *

Bellamy walked in the door ten after three with two coffees in his hands, passing one to Clarke over the back of the sofa. She was watching Stranger Things, so behind on pop culture, Bellamy smirked. "I have thirty minutes of grading to do," he whispered.

Clarke looked at him briefly and threw a piece of popcorn at him with a smile. He laughed, grabbing a handful before going to the dining room table to grade his last two class's pop quizzes.

Bellamy plops down next to Clarke, looking over at the empty bowl of popcorn and grimaced before focusing his attention on Nancy Wheeler appropriately freaking out in the Upside Down with the monster.

"I'm not understanding the concept," she whispered as Jonathan Byers pulled Nancy out of the tree before it closed up and the creepy opening music started.

"It's modern 80's horror, is it supposed to make sense?"

"I don't know, it's stranger than stranger."

Bellamy scoffed.

"Um, I hate to be the rude guest that also rudely invited herself to stay over but what are we doing for dinner?"

"Waiting for Octavia and Lincoln to show up."

"Oh."

"It's been planned for two weeks, you also realize it's Easter weekend and I have all next week off."

"Uh, shit. No."

"It's April 14th, by the way," Bellamy smirked, elbowing her.

"I know that, I just haven't had the importance of holidays aside from Christmas and July 4th in four years. I was a stripper, we have Halloween every day," Clarke said as a joke but Bellamy didn't laugh, the girls usually laughed.

Bellamy paused the show so she wouldn't miss it. "We're not talking about what we need to talk about until after they leave, but we are going to talk about it. What do you want to tell them?"

"The truth is usually the best, I'm just concerned about him finding me."

"He doesn't know your name, does he?"

"I don't think so."

"So we're telling them that you're an exotic dancer?" he grimaced.

"I'm going to let you tell them, I'm just going to sit back and relax with a beer and let Octavia's glare drill a hole in the side of my head."

"More like straight through an eye but I wouldn't let that happen."

Clarke looked up at him and smiled, this time it reached her eyes and Bellamy had the urge to kiss her, his eyes darting down to her plump pink lips. Her tongue darted out and bit her lip, her deep blue eyes locked with his. "I—I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"What do you want to do?" his voice was softer than he realized.

"Sometimes I think about LA, the art scene out there. There's nothing like that here."

"Lincoln is the art teacher. He's also the football coach, I don't know why I'm telling you that. Um, didn't Polis have an art scene?"

"Yes and no, street art mostly and it's not my thing."

"What is your thing?"

"You want to see?"

Bellamy smirked, "You brought your sketch book with you?"

"You think I'd leave my sketch book? I couldn't do that," she stood and went to a box she brought in today and placed in the corner.

"So you packed everything but furniture into your car?"

"I packed whatever I could fit in my car," she smiled getting up with the book to bring back to him.

She sat next to him handing him the book and he opened it, staring at a charcoal drawing of Raven. "That was right after I found out about her and Finn, I couldn't get her face out of my head so I drew it out, that's how it works sometimes."

"It's amazing Clarke, this is from high school?"

"I have eight sketch books, I work between them all."

Bellamy nodded, flipping the page to a landscape. "Why haven't you tried putting these in a gallery?"

Clarke stood and walked to the kitchen, not answering him as she grabbed two beers.

"Clarke?"

"Hmm?" she sat down next to him and handed him a beer.

"A gallery?"

"They found out I was a stripper, not good for business apparently," she shrugged.

"They're idiots, why does it matter what you do as long as you're an amazing artist?"

Clarke grimaced, "People are judgmental and don't take _exotic dancers_ seriously."

"Well, you have really compelling moves," he said nudging her arm.

She looked at him with a small smile. "I didn't want you to see that."

"Yeah, the tears kid of told me that."

"I didn't want you to see that either."

"I just wanted to talk, you and Roan insisted on the dance."

"Roan insisted on the dance."

"Clarke, I couldn't touch you, I—I couldn't stop you."

"What if you could touch me?"

"I—"

The door burst open and Octavia burst through the door, Clarke jumped back to her feet and stood and Bellamy swore she looked guilty. They weren't doing anything.

"Lincoln, you remember the bitch that broke my brother's heart four years ago?" Octavia said, carrying more beer to the fridge as Lincoln walked in carrying two pies of pizza.

"Hey, Clarke, glad to know you're okay."

"Hey, Lincoln, thanks."

"So, Clarke," Octavia started. "When are you leaving?"

"I…" she looked at Bellamy and grimaced, but there was something else in her eyes, and Bellamy wondered if maybe he should hope she stays. "I don't know if I am."

"She's figuring it out," Bellamy said, backing her up, taking a sip of his beer.

"She couldn't figure it out wherever she was for four years?"

"Not when someone tried killing me after stalking me for two months."

Bellamy almost choked on his beer and Lincoln's mouth hung open with wide eyes. Octavia just looked at Clarke unimpressed.

"Are we going to eat or just stare at me while the pizza gets cold? I was nearly strangled last week and that's all I'm going to say about it so I'm back and I'm going to get my shit together. I just needed to… it doesn't matter what I need, I just wanted to come back."

"In my brother's apartment?"

"I'm going to look for a job starting Monday, so once that happens I'll be moving out. Not that I exactly moved in."

News to Bellamy, he nearly smiled, but she can look for a job anywhere in the country from the comfort of his couch. A job anywhere in the world.

"Clarke can stay as long as she wants, it's not like you exactly live here. You think I haven't noticed that all your stuff is gone from your room? And I haven't paid for room and dorm so you're living somewhere and Lincoln lives three blocks from your school so odds are you're with him."

"For what it's worth, I didn't know until March," Lincoln said.

"I'm saving you money, Bell, and Lincoln, I've been paying for groceries and I don't know, I kind of just leave money around letting you think you dropped it."

"That makes a lot of sense, I don't carry hundreds and you're at my place every night."

"Oh, hey! There's pizza!" Bellamy's sarcasm and discomfort of the topic of conversation on full display.

Compared to the night Bellamy had imagined, it was a decent night. Octavia's snide comments directed at Clarke were a constant but Clarke either ignored them like she said she would or she looked to Bellamy before giving a response. He didn't know how to take that, whether she was looking for his permission to say her piece, looking for what he wanted her to say, or just looking at him for strength. It made him hate how important she was to him, that she didn't know. How couldn't she know how he feels, it's not like he hid his feelings, Octavia called him out the first time she caught him watching her all those years ago when they were working on a chemistry project in high school eight years ago.

"You okay?" she asked when he walked into the kitchen after saying goodbye to Octavia and Lincoln. She's doing the dishes, he's never seen her do the dishes before.

"I'm surprised O didn't rip your head off."

"I'm surprised your head didn't explode when you found out they're living together."

"I've known it for a while, just wanted her to stop lying about it."

Clarke placed the last glass on the drying rack and grabbed the towel to dry her hands, turning to Bellamy with a smile. "He loves her," she said simply and with such finality that Bellamy couldn't even question it but also wondered how she knew.

"How are you so certain?"

"The way he looks at her. He couldn't even be mad at her when she was being rude to me. He gave her a hard time, certainly, but the look in his eyes. You can't even deny it."

He couldn't, he's seen it and wondered how Clarke couldn't see it in his own eyes, that he loves her. That he always has, even when they were knocking heads in high school, him riling her up because being a jackass to her was easier for him than admitting he had feelings for the know-it-all princess.

"She's my sister, Clarke, I'm always going to look after her."

"I know," she smiled. "I just want you to know that he's not willingly going to hurt her."

"Good to know."

"You know I don't want to hurt you, right?"

He nodded. "You told them you were strangled," he said, the realization hitting him suddenly.

"Selfishly thinking that she'd go easy on me if she knew I had a murderous psycho stalking me."

"Remember when she first met you?"

Clarke cringed, "I thought she was going to kill me."

"So did I. I had to tell her to be cool, it was the only thing that stopped her."

"That won't work now, she _is_ cool."

"Don't ever tell her that!" Bellamy laughed. "I'm going to get more comfortable, you can pick a show or…"

"Get more comfortable? I do have to buy some clothes tomorrow, I need more than one pair of jeans and my shirts aren't exactly appropriate to wear out in public."

"You're a tease," Bellamy smirked, hoping he didn't sound hopeful while also hoping he did, he wants her to stay, he wants her to know that he cares about her.

"It was my job to be."

"And now?"

"And now what?"

Why did he ask that? He hadn't meant to ask that, why did he ask that? "Why didn't you want to dance for me? Why was it so horrible for you?"

"It was awkward," she sighed. "You're my best friend. I hadn't seen you in three years and the first thing I do is grind on you and lie to you. It wasn't the reunion that I wanted."

"What reunion were you hoping for?"

"Less dramatic than the two we got, I think I scared your class."

"They're juniors, they can get over it."

"It still wasn't fair to you."

"To me? Clarke, I got to see you again, I'm fine. It wasn't fair to you, to force you to… I yanked the wig off your head, I—"

"I wanted you to know it was me, I wanted to tell you the moment I saw you at the table. I—" Clarke sighed. "All I wanted to do was jump in your arms and hug you."

"I would have liked that more."

"Bellamy, I—I'm sorry I left, it was childish. I wasted four years of my life, four years without… my best friend. I'm sorry."

He pulled her to his chest and hugged her, feeling her arms wrap around him too. "Stop apologizing, you've been forgiven for a year. You did what you promised me you would, all I'm asking is for you to stay now."

"When I said goodbye…" she started, pulling away from him to look in his eyes. "Were you going to kiss me?"

 _Yes!_ He thought but instead said, "That was four years ago, I—"

"Four years of me thinking about that moment. We were best friends and I thought about that moment often over the years and it didn't feel like I was saying goodbye to my best friend."

"Clarke—"

"Am I wrong, Bellamy? Is that not where we were headed?"

"What if I had kissed you? Would you have left?"

"Yes, I couldn't stay then. No matter what, I couldn't stay. I would have wanted to though."

He didn't expect this turn of conversation, he didn't know what to say or how to act. What _she_ wanted him to say and do, she's been hot and cold the last two days, he couldn't figure it out. "Would you have come back sooner?"

"I don't know, you were in school, Bell. You were in your last year, I couldn't take that away from you. I would have asked you to come with me and I knew you couldn't. You stayed and got your teaching degree, so it was good you didn't and that you stayed."

" _Good?_ Clarke, I needed you. We all needed you and you left us. How would you feel if Octavia and I left you just after your dad passed? That's how it was, Clarke, it sucked. You think you had a hand in killing twenty people, but you didn't, you tried everything you could to save them."

"I didn't—Bellamy, I didn't know that!"

"I can't give you my heart again, I can't have someone have the power to destroy me again."

"I wouldn't," she grimaced. Bellamy's hand itched to smooth the wrinkle in her brow, but he didn't. She doesn't want to hurt him and yet her plan does exactly that!

"You want to go to California! You come running back for my protection and tell me you want to move across the country. That's the definition of hurting me."

"You want me to stay? Fine, I'll stay, but I don't think I can jump back into our friends and see my mom. I can't pretend that everything is okay!"

"I'm not asking you to."

"You didn't answer me."

"It doesn't matter, it wouldn't have made a difference."

"To you? You kissing me wouldn't have changed us? Changed how you felt, what you wanted? What I wanted? If that's how you feel then I should just go back to Polis." She stepped out of his grip and headed into the living room, the bag and box she brought in from her car. Why hadn't she brought anything else in?

Bellamy followed after her, not knowing where the outburst came from, but certainly not letting her leave or believe that he wants her to go back to that place where that man, whomever he maybe, can kill her. "Clarke, stop, it doesn't matter what could have been different four years ago. It was _four years ago_ and we don't have a time machine to find out what would have happened if I kissed you, begged you to stay even more, gone with you. It doesn't matter because we aren't there, we can't change that. We are here, now, and this almost didn't happen."

"What?" she spun around, her duffel bag hitting her in the thigh, jolting her a little.

"A man had his hands around your throat and nearly killed you. Do you understand that he could have killed you? You could have died and I wouldn't have known, your mother wouldn't have known because you cut us out of your life."

"I didn't know how to come back."

"You knock on a door, you walk into a store, you make a phone call. You do something, Clarke. Not just ignore us."

"I'm not arguing with you about something I did."

"Yeah, when someone almost killed you."

"I know what he did. I see it every time I close my eyes, last night was the first night I slept in a week. Don't keep throwing what happened to me in my face!"

"Well, you don't know how it feels to find out the person you love nearly died!" the words were out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying and once his brain caught up with his mouth, he couldn't take it back.

He finally looked at Clarke after what felt like an eternity at his stupid Ikea rug. She stared at him in utter shock but there was something in her eyes that he couldn't put his finger on, some sense of hope or want or… fear?

"What?" she asked and it was so soft, he wasn't quite sure he heard her.

"You're my best friend, Clarke."

"You love me like a friend?"

 _No, I'm in love with you, but it doesn't look like that's what you want to hear so…_ "Yep."

She nodded and turned back to the box, bending over to pick it up.

"I'm hoping you're carrying them into my room because that's where you're staying."

"I'm leaving, Bellamy, I can't give you what you want."

Clarke pushed past him and he grabbed her arm, the heat of her skin startled Bellamy, how the hell was she so warm?

"What is it do you exactly think that I want, Clarke?"

"You're the savior. You took your sister in, you took me in when my father died. Monty with his Mom, Jasper with Maya. The only people in your life who you haven't taken in are Miller, Murphy and Kane, but with Kane, he's the one that took you in."

"So I'm the dad of our friends, you're the mom."

"You're the mom, I'm the deadbeat dad that shows up whenever he feels like and hurts the mom every time like clockwork."

"Fine, I'm the mom and if that's how you feel, if that's how you see us, then why are you doing this? If you're this self-aware, then why did you come here?"

"Because," Clarke dropped the box on the chair next to her and wiped the tears from her cheeks, not Bellamy's intentions. "It's what the selfish dad does, shows up and acts like everything can be normal again when he's just going to break everyone's hearts and let everyone down."

"I hate this analogy," Bellamy scoffed, taking the duffel from Clarke's shoulder and placed it in front of the chair. "Come here," he whispered, pulling her into another hug. "Please stop making excuses. Please be the good dad."

Clarke chuckled, "You killed the analogy."

"Thank God," he sighed as she pushed him away.

"I'll stay," she said, her beautiful blue eyes looking into Bellamy's.

"You'll stay?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going to Raven's party, I'm not going to ruin it."

"Can I at least ask Harper to come hang out with you while I make an appearance?"

"Stay for the party, Bell. You deserve some fun."

He nodded, "Harper?"

"If she says yes."

"I'm sure she will, she missed you."

Clarke smiled, "I caught that."

"Let's finish Stranger Things before I fall asleep," Bellamy said, dragging her to the couch. "I'm getting too old to stay up all night."

"You're twenty six, Bell," Clarke laughed, sitting next to him.


	4. STRENGTH AND COURAGE

It's been three months and Bellamy couldn't believe she hasn't run. She hasn't even tried running away, she's been getting back into everyday life, and their friends have been nice and accepting about her return. She got a job as a receptionist at the hospital, thanks to her mother who was informed of her return by Kane after some interrogation, he caved relatively quickly.

"Happy birthday," she whispered in his ear, she's taken the habit of sneaking into his room at night and cuddling close to him. Not that he minded, but her not being his was difficult enough without her ass against his morning erection or her core rubbing against his upper thigh. He didn't want to push her, he couldn't lose her forever over something as trivial as sex.

He smiled, loving her rough voice first thing in the morning, always waking him up before his alarm. "Thank you."

"Are you excited for tonight?"

"All my favorite people hanging out together for the first time in four years? Hell, yeah."

Clarke tucked her face into his shoulder. She hates being reminded of what she did, even in a little way like saying that, it's not what he meant, it was just that she was the missing one and he wanted her to know that she is one of his favorite people. Fuck, he loves her.

"You working today?" he asked, squeezing her side.

She looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest, just above the wing of the tattooed crow across his chest and back, he didn't know why he got the crow specifically, but knowing now that he felt dead when she left. He never wanted to feel like that again, he didn't want to allow someone to hurt him so badly, only now realizing that there are only two people with the ability to hurt him like that. Two people that will always have the ability and hoped they never use it, Octavia and still, Clarke.

"No, it sucks, but I'm still celebrating with you."

Bellamy smirked, "Rebel without a cause."

Clarke smiled, they're both in good moods today. "Do you want your present?"

He looked at her on his shoulder with a skeptical look, "I get a present?"

"You can get it now or after your party tonight, but I'd prefer you sober."

"Oh, well then now," he smirked.

"Okay," she bit her lip. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Close your eyes." Her smile was wide and she sat up on her elbow.

"Why?"

"Bellamy, close your eyes."

He rolled his eyes and reluctantly closed them, knowing better than to try and peek.

He felt her move away from him, possibly to the edge, before rolling back to him, her hand back on his chest. He felt her breath across his cheek a moment before he felt her lips on his.

He groaned, ill prepared but still, his hands instantly gripped her waist, pulling her on top of him, kissing her properly. Her hand moved up to cup his jaw and damn he should have shaved, she pulled her hand away, placing it on his shoulder.

Fuck, he needed more. If this was all he's going to get, he wants it to be worth it. He flipped them over and Clarke squealed as his mouth consumed hers again, pressing their bodies together. God, she's perfect. Her legs wrapped around his hips, tugging him closer. He wished their clothes were off, fuck.

"You have work," she practically whimpered when he pebbled kisses down her throat. Fuck, he wanted to hear her say literally anything but that in that tone. Fuck.

Bellamy dropped his head on her shoulder. "You're such a tease," he chuckled.

"I'm not the one that has work," she said, combing her fingers in his hair.

"Is this all I get?" he raised his head, looking her in those stunning blue eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Do I get to kiss you whenever I want? Or just this once."

"Whenever you want, whenever I want. I just wanted us both to remember this."

"I'm going to remember you cock blocking me on my damn birthday."

"Hey, I'm not the one who has to work today."

"Mm, do I have to go?"

"Unfortunately," she smiled into his hair.

He looked at her and the fire in her eyes was all encompassing, "We'll continue this later?"

She sighed with a smile, "We better."

Bellamy rolled off her and sighed, not one of those happy sighs, but the "I hate my life" sigh. He hates the last day of school, there's no point to it, really. Finals are over and he has nothing to teach his students until next year. Why should he even go in? It's a glorified babysitting day. "I'm calling out. It's my birthday, I shouldn't have to work."

"Go to work, I'll be here when you get back. We're meeting everyone at O's at seven so that's three hours of whatever the hell you want."

"You're going to get ready in a half hour?"

"Yes, Bellamy, are you? You have work in an hour."

He rolled his eyes and got out of bed as slowly as he could. "You know, I'm really not feeling well, I shouldn't go in."

Clarke chuckled, "Shut up! Go shower and I'll make you coffee and cinnamon rolls."

"Cinnamon rolls?"

"Pillsbury," she smirked.

"You need to take a cooking class or something, you're killing yourself with all these processed foods."

"Do you want me to make anything or not?"

"Not, I'll stop at Harper's free pastry on your birthday."

"You're actually open about your birthday now? I had to force Octavia to tell me. I bribed her with… I shouldn't tell you," Clarke smirked and Bellamy bent back down and kissed her swiftly.

"I'm going to shower, please make coffee."

"I'm going back to bed, I don't have work today."

"You suck."

"Maybe later," she smirked, leaning up to kiss him again, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth.

He groaned, pulling away and shook his head fondly before gong to the bathroom to get ready for work.

* * *

Clarke went down to Harper's when she woke up again around ten and smiled at Jayden when he brought her an orange scone without her having to ask. "She's in the back."

"Of course she is," Clarke shook her head and walked into the back, finding an eight month pregnant Harper carrying a giant bag of flour. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Baking."

"No, duh, you can't carry that much weight, you'll induce labor early."

"I'm fine with that, get out of my belly baby!" She chuckled and Clarke laughed taking the flour from her and placed it on the counter for her. "Are you nervous?" Harper asked after a minute of silence.

"Insanely," Clarke smiled, she was more excited than nervous, Bellamy didn't know at all.

"So you're going to surprise him and he'll worry about what's going on, stressing because this is Bellamy and it's all he does." Harper began measuring out the flour for whatever she was baking.

"I know, you're coming, right?"

"Unless this alien decides to come within the next eight hours, yes. He's excited and I'm moderately hopeful you didn't fuck my face up."

"Relax, you're gorgeous. I got you."

"You did everyone?"

"Everyone," Clarke nodded, knowing Harper was talking about Octavia.

"Octavia?"

"Just because she's mad at me doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a portrait."

Harper smiled, "What flavor cupcakes for tonight?"

"That's what you're doing? Harper, you don't—"

"It's Bellamy's birthday, I have to."

"You really don't, he—he hates his birthday and will be happy that I'm distracting everyone from the occasion."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, remember when no one knew when his birthday was?"

"Until last year."

"Yeah, and you can probably blame me for that too. I didn't text him, he thought I didn't care but I—I was working and I couldn't text him and calling would have made me want to come back and I couldn't have that then. I didn't think I deserved him."

"And you do now?"

"I've been to hell and back, if I don't then something will separate us. I don't think it will though, we've waited so long already."

Harper nodded, "I'm thinking chocolate fudge with buttercream frosting."

"His two favorites, you're the best."

"Don't thank me, you're paying for them, I'm not that generous."

Clarke laughed, "I'm okay with that. I should get to the gallery, make sure everything's set up properly before tonight."

"So this is a private opening, right? No randoms from town?"

"Correct. Bye, Harp. Bye, Baby Green!"

"Bye, Hypogriff!" Harper called back and Clarke turned back to her. "I didn't… thought I was being clever, I'm not, I'm a baker."

"Birthday cake idea," Clarke laughed. "Later!"

"Seven o'clock," Harper nodded and Clarke left.

* * *

At the gallery, everything was perfect, she had them all in order, her older sketches of her friends, now paintings, with their added worries next to the new ones with their armor, their strength, and she knew they'd all love each piece. Harper was pregnant and looking absolutely badass. Octavia was practically the impenetrable Great Wall, that's all she's allowed Clarke to see so it wasn't fully accurate, but it's what Clarke could see and that's what the collection was all about. What she knew compared to what she came back to find.

"Bellamy's going to love it," Luna said coming up behind Clarke as she looked at the nearly identical Bellamy's. If anything, there's less armor on his new drawing and more insecurities and the one that screamed through every fiber of his being was her leaving him.

She would never leave him again, it was a promise she made herself and she never wanted to break it.

"I know," Clarke smiled softly, he's perfect.

"And yours?"

"The finale which is insanely conceded, but it's my show and I've changed immensely so I deserve it," she shrugged, thoroughly joking but it's Luna, she doesn't have a funny bone in her body.

"Yeah, sure, this is impressive though. You're good."

"Overwhelming praise," Clarke rolled her eyes. "Is there anything I should do before tonight?"

"Nope, it's all set, I have the caterers coming an hour before everyone gets here, it should all be set so go home, relax and get ready because this is going to be the night of your life," Luna said with fake enthusiasm and Clarke shook her head.

"Thanks, Luna, I really felt that you meant it that time."

* * *

Clarke washed her hair and was going to straighten it, knowing Bellamy's going to ruin it when he gets home because she finally made a move. she walked out of the bathroom in her robe, grabbing some pretzels from the kitchen when she saw him on the couch, jumping in surprise.

"Get out."

"That's not nice, Wanheda," he smiled and Clarke took a step back.

She didn't want to die like this, not when she finally told Bellamy how she felt—mostly. "Carl, please. Please don't do this."

"Why did you run? Did you think you could hide from me?"

"No, I—I knew you'd find me, I just hoped you'd forget."

Carl stood and Clarke searched the counter for something she could use to protect herself. How was this possible? How did he find her? Does the restraining order not work in Arkadia?

"I bet you're wondering how I found you and your little group of misfits. It's rather funny, actually," he smiled but it was more of a sneer and Clarke had the urge to run, but refrained, biding her time for something more opportune. "My boss thinks himself an art connoisseur and he wanted to know who this Clarke Griffin was that was a big deal in little Arkadia. You see when the boss wants to know about someone, he calls me and I go looking. How surprised was I to find out that Chloe "Wanheda" Glasston, a tease, was really Clarke Griffin, Princess of Arkadia? Very." Carl stalked towards her, trapping her in the kitchen. "That was the hard part, finding your address, finding out you're whoring yourself out, using this poor bastard because he fell in love with you back in college and using it against him. That's low even for the common whore that you are."

"You know nothing about me or Bellamy," Clarke cried, blinking back tears. She was scared for her life, gripping the edge of the counter for support, for something to hold her steady. WHY THE HELL DOESN'T BELLAMY HAVE ANY STEAK KNIVES? she thought pissed off at Bellamy while still extremely terrified of Carl Emerson.

"Bellamy Blake, high school history and Latin teacher, today is his twenty-seventh birthday. Little sister Octavia, she's nineteen, dating Lincoln Whittle who's twenty-eight and had been arrested for getting into a bar fight with Bellamy Blake but the charges were dropped within minutes of him arriving at the police station because it was Bellamy who initiated it, overprotective older brother."

"Leave them alone. This is between us, Carl?"

"What makes him so special, Wanheda?" he sneered and Clarke pulled back.

"He didn't try to rape and kill me."

"That's the look in your eyes, I couldn't figure it out. You think I'm going to kill you?" he laughed. "I'm not going to kill you, I want you to submit, submit your power to me."

"I don't want that."

"You will."

"Carl, you can't force people to do whatever you want them to do. They have their own minds, their own freewill. That's what it's like being human, having the ability to make your own choices and this choice, being in Bellamy's apartment without being invited, it's not a good choice for you to have made."

"He isn't here, he's at work and you're here, practically naked for me."

"No, Carl, not for you. I'm in my boyfriend's apartment getting ready for work, you're intruding."

"You have as much a right to be here than I do."

"I at least have a key, you broke in."

Carl trapped her against the counter and Clarke looked for something to protect herself again, finding nothing.

"You're going to regret this, you're not going to get anything from me, Carl."

Carl smirked, his fingers stroking the opening of her robe. "I've already seen plenty of you, but you mustn't be comfortable in this, it's stifling out."

He pulled on the tie that held the robe together and it fell open, revealing her to him and Clarke wasn't embarrassed, she just wished he was Bellamy and he wasn't attacking her. She tried picturing it, Bellamy standing before her instead of the murderous stalker that was Carl Emerson and it didn't work, nothing she could do could make him picture Bellamy here, touching her sensitive skin, making her feel amazing instead of trying to curl in on herself and pray the allure of her wore off.

She didn't fight him and maybe she should have but the moment his fingers touched her skin she froze and it was as though she was watching herself give in to Carl from across the room, an outer body experience. Watching him do whatever he wanted to her and she stood there taking it until he touched her breast and she pushed him away harder than she truly intended, covering herself back up.

Carl's glare was so lethal that Clarke knew he was going to retaliate tenfold. He pushed into her, grabbing the root of her hair and yanked her head back, gripping her breast and squeezing rougher than she's ever experienced, whining at the pain.

"There's my Wanheda."

"You don't even know what that means," she sneered back.

"Does it matter? You're a dancer, yet you're so ridged, isn't that counterproductive?"

"I'm not a dancer. I—I was hiding and that was the last place my friends and family would look for me."

"And they're so proud of their Princess for coming home, for staying out of trouble and not being the whore you're pretending not to be?"

"You're delusional," Clarke sneered, knowing that it was just fueling him. He wanted this, he wanted her to fight because the more she fights, the more pain he causes, he's a psychopath.

"Don't you want to prove to the poor bastard that you're not his?"

"I am and nothing you can do will ever change that."

"Really?" he asked, yanking her hair back and tossing her on the floor. "You like that? You like being treated like a toy being tossed around?"

"Maybe I'm just biding my time for the most opportune time to kill you."

Carl laughed, grabbing Clarke's wrists and pinned her down on the cold tile of the kitchen. He tied them together to the table leg and Clarke wired her eyes and jaw shut. She didn't want to know what he was doing, his fingers and mouth trailing over her body erratically.

She occasionally looked over at the door to the apartment to see if anyone would walk in to find the cluttered apartment and Clarke tied up by this stranger, his fingers getting more and more adventurous as the time passed. She tried kicking and kneeing him away but he got leverage in each move and her thighs were spread wide with his holding her down.

Clarke didn't want to cry, didn't want to waste her tears on this horrible man, but it were as if a damn burst inside of her and she couldn't control the tears streaming out of he, Carl duct taped her mouth to keep her volume down and the neighbors from questioning and Clarke bided her time, tried not thinking about what was physically happening and thinking about the opening, everyone's reactions, hopefully getting back in Octavia's good graces.

She didn't know how long she waited, how long Emerson was consumed by her when she saw the door of the apartment open silently over his shoulder. The look on Bellamy's face a moment later was heartbreaking and before Clarke or Emerson knew it, Bellamy had him pinned to the floor, pounding his face in with his fist.

His fist about to land another punch in the unconscious face of Emerson, Bellamy turned his gaze over to Clarke. She couldn't look away but she couldn't help the look of disappointment and fear that held his gaze. He loosened his fist and went over to Clarke, tearing the duct tape from her mouth. "I'm sorry," he uttered, going to her wrists next.

"Bell—Bellamy, call 9-1-1. I—"

"Okay," he nodded, getting the knot untied and Clarke's wrists slackened and she finally got to move freely. She sat up and covered herself back up in the robe, curling into a ball while Bellamy spoke to the dispatch person on the phone.

"He's unconscious, I had to fight him off her… No, I wouldn't… Okay. Thank you," he placed the phone on his knee and sighed.

"Bell?"

"They're on their way," he sighed collapsing into the cabinets next to her and Clarke curled into his side. He kissed the top of her head as her fingers twined together in his.

"I don't know how he found me at your apartment. I don't—"

"It doesn't matter how he found you, only that I got here before he…"

"I don't think that's what he wanted," she said before thinking it through. Emerson was greedy, but he also knew he couldn't have someone who didn't want him back. "He would have done it already, he wouldn't have taken his time. I think he wanted to ruin me for you, seeing me with someone else, willing or not, it changes a relationship for the worst."

Bellamy didn't say anything for a moment before stating, "I've seen you with other people before."

Clarke scoffed, "This is slightly different than making out with Finn Collins."

"I love you. This wasn't how I wanted to say it, but it doesn't make it any less true. I've loved you for so long that I can't even tell you when it began, I spent four years away from you and that didn't stop how I felt so I don't think this could."

"I—"

"You don't have to say it back, not right now, not after this. Not until you're ready, okay?"

Clarke nodded, bringing his hand twined to hers up to her lips. "I hate him. I had a whole evening planned to distract attention from your birthday, because I know you hate it and he had to come and ruin everything."

"I only care that you're here, everything else is just an added bonus."

"I have a gallery opening tonight."

"Wait, all your sketches?"

Clarke nodded, "I turned them into something."

"I'm so proud of you."

"Arkadia Police, we're coming in."

* * *

An hour later the police left with enough photos and long winded statements to lock up Carl Emerson for years. Breaking and entering, assault, at least five years in jail and Clarke could somewhat breathe after finding that out. Sure, she's going to have to testify in court, but he's still going to jail. Nobody likes abusers.

"What do you want to do?" Bellamy asked after Clarke showered to wash Carl Emerson off of her.

"I had sex and dinner planned before the gallery but that's off the table."

"Sex is," he agreed. "If you're not comfortable going out, I'm fine with staying in and watching Netflix with you."

Clarke rolled her eyes, "You want to go to the gallery, I know you."

"Of course I do. You're amazing and we hadn't told anyone what happened so they'd call concerned."

"Brave face. I can manage that for a few hours," she grimaced. "I need to shower before we go. How's your hand?"

Bellamy looked at his engorged knuckles, "Swollen but it'll heal. I'll ice it while you're in the shower."

Clarke nodded and headed down the hall to the bathroom she'd just come from. "Hey, Bell," she called, looking back at him from the doorway. "I'm sorry I didn't come back when you asked me too."

"Don't worry about that. We're here now and that's what matters. Go shower."

* * *

"Clarke! You're here! This is amazing! You're amazing!" Harper squealed, hugging Clarke tightly.

"Hey, Harper. Thank you," she smiled, though she felt like dying. It's Harper, she reminded herself trying to stay calm and not freak out, she still felt him on her.

"Harper, she just walked in, could you let her breathe?" Bellamy asked and Harper pulled away.

"Yeah, sorry, I love my pieces."

"This is… I don't get it," Octavia said to Lincoln a few yards away, looking at her portraits.

"It's a time piece. Who you were when I left versus who you are now," Clarke stated and Octavia turned to glare at her.

"So you see nothing when you look at me?"

"You don't let me see anything but anger, hence the armor. You're strong, no one can deny that, but strength and courage are vastly different qualities in a person."

"Pray tell," Octavia countered and Clarke sighed.

There was a poem she's had stuck in her head since coming back to town and it was partly because she was feeling cowardice but also because she was trying to exhume courage with everything that was happening with Emerson. She had it memorized, "It takes strength to be certain,  
It takes courage to have doubts.

It takes strength to fit in,  
It takes courage to stand out.

It takes strength to feel a friend's pain,  
It takes courage to feel your own pain.

It takes strength to hide your own pains,  
It takes courage to show them.

It takes strength to stand guard,  
It takes courage to let down your guard.

It takes strength to conquer,  
It takes courage to surrender.

It takes strength to endure abuses,  
It takes courage to stop them.

It takes strength to stand alone,  
It takes courage to lean on a friend.

It takes strength to love,  
It takes courage to be loved.

It takes strength to survive,  
It takes courage to live."

At some point in recalling the poem, Clarke began to cry. She realized that she wasn't being courageous at all, she was being strong. What she was criticizing her friend for was the exact thing she was doing herself. She's a hypocrite and telling everyone about what happened to her just hours before would be courageous, leaning on them as the poem says, but she didn't want anyone but Bellamy to know.

It takes courage to be loved. She loves him, has for as long as she could remember, but hearing him say it this afternoon, she pushed it aside. She didn't take it for the truth, his truth and somehow she didn't feel lighthearted when he said it like she thought she would. Hearing Bellamy tell her he loved her for the first time should have been the happiest moment of his life, but she had Emerson in her head and she felt nothing when he said it, making her feel worse.

She was looking into his eyes, big brown eyes filled with concern that broke her heart even further. "We shouldn't have come," he whispered.

Clarke shook her head as Bellamy wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "I'm fine. It's just a lot to take in."

"We can go. We can see everyone at a better time, once you—"

"No. I just want everything to be normal. This is normal."

* * *

"You've been coming here for three weeks, Clarke, and you haven't said anything. Do you plan to?"

Clarke sighed and looked over at her psychologist, she knew it was supposed to help get over the trauma, talking about the incident, but she's also not the person who deals with trauma well. Or therapy at all for that matter. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Dr. Marx was a too thin, graying man whom, with one punch, Clarke could incapacitate. He wasn't a threat to her physically, just to her boxed up psyche, manipulating every fragile and significant moment of her life. How was she supposed to trust anyone with any piece of her again? "We could start off with something easy, a getting to know you sort of thing if that's what you'd prefer."

"Ask your easy question," she grimaced. Easy questions are like stupid questions, they exist outside the classroom.

"How are you today?"

Clarke scoffed, easy question. "I'm fine."

"Bellamy said you barely get out of bed."

"Bellamy doesn't think I should be here either and yet here I am."

"You sound angry."

"I am, but not at Bellamy."

"At Carl Emerson?"

"I thought you said easy, he's not easy."

"Okay, what's easy?"

Clarke thought about every aspect of her life, how Harper's coffee was the best she's ever had, how the shop will be closed for another three days because of the birth of her son a few days ago, how art was always her escape but she can't for the life of her pick up a pencil or brush, how Bellamy has been the easiest relationship she's been able to maintain and it might have something to do with them loving each other that they forgive each other's wrongdoings but it might also be that they truly understand each other better than anyone else in their lives.

"Bellamy," she said answering the question.

"Bellamy is easy?"

"Talking about Bellamy, literally anything about him makes everything easier."

"So tell me about Bellamy, how'd you meet?"

"We hated each other. I think we saw our worst selves in each other back then but over time we realized that we make each other better. Seeing our worst selves made us want to be better and he succeeds and I'm…"

"You're—?"

"I've been through too much. I try learning from my mistakes but I just keep making more. I don't know what to do."

"What decisions do you regret?"

"Almost all of them. When I was in college I was an EMT, that bus accident four years ago where twenty people, I was there. I could have done more but I didn't."

"You couldn't have. I read the reports, there was nothing more you could have done."

"You went to med school? You understand the report?"

"I spent ten years working at Bellevue in New York before coming here. I understand the report and you did what you could, you triaged the scene and helped the seven people that you could. You saved seven people at the cost of twenty, the odds weren't good but it's what you could do in the situation. That's all anyone could ask of you."

What could Clarke say to that? It's what her mother said to her when Clarke got one of the victims to the hospital, it's what Bellamy and Monty told her when she said goodbye.

"So what happened after that? What makes you bring it up now?"

"I avoided everything after that, I moved to Polis instead of going to the funerals and dealing with the pity in all my friends' eyes because I was beating myself up over it. I killed people. Monty and I did. He stayed and dealt with it all but I couldn't. Maya died and I couldn't even apologize to Jasper, I felt horrible for being a part of it."

"You weren't, it was a car accident. You did what you could with the aftermath, that's all you can do."

"You can tell me that it's not my fault until you're blue in the face and I still won't feel that way."

"Okay. What happened in Polis?"

"I couldn't get a job except as an exotic dancer, so I did that. Everything was fine for three years and then Bellamy showed up for Monty's bachelor party. A fucking cliché. He knew it was me right away, he saw through the wig and make up and saw me. He asked me to go back with him but I didn't. I should have, this wouldn't have happened if I had."

"You can't blame yourself for someone else's decisions, Clarke. Carl Emerson decided to obsess over you, you can't blame yourself for his decision."

"If I wasn't a stripper, he wouldn't have done any of this."

"You could have been a barista and this could have happened. You can't keep blaming yourself for things that are out of your control."

"I can't promise that."

"You can work on it though. So what happened? What pushed you to come back to Arkadia?"

"He strangled me outside my apartment. Followed me home. He knew where I lived, he wouldn't leave me alone after that so after he strangled me, I ran. I came back because I didn't know what he could do and if he did find me, I'd have Bellamy with me. I laid low for a couple months but I had a gallery opening three weeks ago and I guess Luna put it on the internet and his boss asked him to find out who I was because he's an art collector and loves finding the next big thing before it becomes a big thing so he found me."

Dr. Marc nodded, "Have you said his name since it happened?"

"What?"

"Have you said his name? Have you said Carl Emerson since he attacked you?"

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Assault? He sexually assaulted me. He broke into Bellamy's apartment while we were out and waited for me. He could have been there for hours, looking into our lives, Bellamy's life. Bellamy didn't deserve that invasion!"

"Do you feel like you did?" Dr. Marx pressed. It's his job and it doesn't make Clarke want to punch him lessen.

"No one deserves their privacy to be taken from them."

"But you didn't say that. You said that Bellamy didn't deserve it."

"I don't want to talk about this."

Dr. Marc sat back, "Okay, our time is up anyway. I'll see you next week?"

Clarke nodded and sighed, standing up and leaving. She found Raven in the hall and grimaced.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine."

"Did you talk this time?"

"Yep."

"That's good," she smiled and Clarke walked ahead of her, needing to get out of the building. "Do you need to do anything this afternoon?"

"Is Bellamy at school still?" Damn summer school.

"For another hour."

Clarke pushed the front door of the building open and breathed in the fresh air, instantly calming her. "Why aren't you at work?" she asked Raven after a minute of finding Raven's car, she doesn't even need to ask why she's there, Bellamy's had people picking her up at the end of the fifty minute sessions since they've started.

"I have the afternoon off."

"You don't take time off. You're Raven Reyes, you work through everything."

"But Clarke Griffin needs her friend right now."

"I really don't."

"I know that you hate when Bellamy and I talk about you, or when anyone talks about you, but he says you're distant and this is different than when you first came back. A depression of sorts."

"Why does he talk about me with you?"

"Because were friends and you're a big part of his life."

"Because he loves me?"

"Because he already lost you and I'm afraid of what would happen if you left him again."

"He makes it all worth it."

"Tell him that, not me," Raven said unlocking the car. "Look, Clarke, there's nothing Bellamy wouldn't do for you, but it has to be the same for him with you. You can't just leave because you feel like it, you have to talk to him."

"I know. I'm not going anywhere."

They both got in the car and Raven started it up. "Good. Did he talk to you about Labor Day weekend?"

"No."

Raven pulled the car out of the parking spot and turned onto the street towards Bellamy's apartment. "Well, the week before we rent a house in Virginia Beach. It started out for Jasper, to try and cheer him up but he just used it as an excuse to drown his liver in alcohol. Then we were all losing touch with work and it's our quarterly catch up."

"That sounds fun."

"It is and you're coming. I will drag you there if I have to."

Clarke smirked, "I know, I'm not arguing with you. I'll go, I just don't know how much fun I'll be."

"When were you were fun?"

"Haha," Clarke said sarcastically.


	5. YOU CENTER ME

It was mid-August before Clarke felt worthy of Bellamy's love again. She hated that it took her seven weeks to accept everything that happened that afternoon wasn't her fault. He—Carl Emerson—is sick and needs help. Any man who thinks he has the right to touch a woman without her consent is certainly out of his mind and in need of help.

She smiled at the thought and opened the door of the apartment from a mind numbing day at work to find Bellamy grading quizzes, she seriously hates summer school because it stresses him out more than regular school did. His inky hair was a mess, his fingers combing and yanking it every which way, his red pen tapping against his bottom teeth, a tell that he was annoyed with the quiz answers.

Clarke knew what she had to do, she's been wanting to do it since she woke up that morning with such surety that even if she changed her mind, she was sure that her body would do it on impulse.

He hadn't noticed her yet so she snuck up behind him and when she was directly behind him, she pulled the pen from his fingers and lips and as he turned to look at her, she leaned down and their lips met, slightly off center, but all that really mattered was that she wasn't freaking out over being touched by someone—by Bellamy.

She wanted more, she wanted to see how far she could push herself, if there were any limits she had with Bellamy after Emerson. She pushed him against the back of the chair and climbed into his lap before parting her lips and Bellamy warily licked into her mouth. Clarke sighed, she still wanted more, she needed more of him and she didn't want to wait for him to realize she's truly okay with what's going on. She's in control, it's what she needed.

"Clarke, wait," he said in between kisses but she pressed on, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. "Clarke, please."

She pulled back and looked at him, slightly embarrassed that she practically attacked him but also not even remotely close to regretting it as he cupped her cheek.

"Are you okay? You didn't take anything to make your worries disappear for a few hours? Is there even a drug that does that?"

Clarke chuckled, loving that he was worried about her. It's Bellamy, he's always worried about the people he loves and she's finally accepting that she's one of them. "There's weed, which could have that effect on people but I haven't taken anything, I'm just accepting that I can't control everything. That Emerson wasn't my fault and in the aftermath of that, I pushed you away again. I don't want to push you away."

He smiled, placing his hands on her waist gingerly, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You can say that now, but you can change your mind too."

"It's been years, Clarke. I'm pretty sure it's not going to change."

"I know you're busy, but if you need a break…" she shrugged, biting her lip.

"Yeah, I could use a break. Where—"

"Bedroom," she suggested and Bellamy, without warning, moved his hands from her waist to her ass and lifted her as he stood, his chair flew back onto the floor and he carried her to his—their—bedroom, depositing her on the bed.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

Clarke rolled her eyes, "I—"

"What is it?"

Clarke grimaced, "I don't exactly know. I know I want to be with you and everything that entails, but I don't know how to get there. It's like I forgot or…"

"You're nervous. I am too. We don't have to do anything now or today, we have time. We have all the time in the world."

"I want to, but I don't want to freak out on you because of what he did."

"Hey," he sat next to her, taking her hands in his and making sure she's looking in his eyes when he said the next part, always so serious. "This is about you and what you want. We can stop whenever you need to, okay?"

She shook her head, "That's not fair to you."

"Believe me, I will be fine. I just want you to be comfortable, no matter how long it takes to get there."

Clarke nodded, "Take your shirt off."

Bellamy chuckled, releasing her hands before pulling his shirt up and over his head.

Her eyes roamed over his taught torso and thick arms for a moment before she lunged forward, pressing her mouth against his in a persistent tight-lipped kiss, feeling his body stiffen underneath her brash movement. He placed his hand on her neck, his thumb softly stroking the sensitive skin behind her ear.

She closed her eyes when he moved that hand to cup her face, angling her head just right, a soft reminder that this is Bellamy and he's there for her. He's always there for her as she would for him through everything. The warmth of his lips against hers again coaxed a sigh of relief out of her and she relaxed into him. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her lips, not wanting to push her, but she welcomed him.

He was sweet, and caring, and just Bellamy. Bellamy's actions give her all the confidence she needs to embrace so she could do this, so she could be with him. Her heart pounded out of her chest as she crawled in his lap, his other hand landed on her waist. He's gentle and Clarke appreciated it while also knowing he's holding back for her and it simultaneously frustrates her and makes her love him more.

There was something about being with Bellamy, something that soothed her mind, calmed her soul, and every worry disappeared until it was just them. She slowly ground her hips against his, reveling in the delicious friction, rapaciously sucking his bottom lip in her mouth. She was growing frantic and needy and she wanted this to be more than just fucking, she wanted him to know that she loved him even if she couldn't just say it because the words didn't seem like enough and she couldn't think of the right words that portrayed how she really felt.

She kissed him and kissed him, waiting for him to get it, to get her. He held her steady, his fingers sure and unmoving and completely infuriating. She frowned at that, moving her hands from his shoulders, down his biceps to his wrists, moving his hands to the hem of her shirt, she wants him to push it further, she wanted to feel wanted (not that she didn't, but him initiating something would help her out). His thumb massaged her hips, under her shirt before pulling it up and over her head and pulling her back in to kiss him.

With the new expanse of new bare skin, Bellamy's hands wouldn't stop moving, grazing over every inch of new skin the forgone shirt now exposed. His fingers stopped at the button of Clarke's jeans and she swallowed hard before nodding that it was okay. The button of her pants opened with a pop and the breath that she was holding released. She could feel the pressure of his hardness burns against her core, even through their clothes, and she shook her head suddenly unsure, "Bell, I—I…" she sighs.

"Take as much time as you need, okay?"

"No, I want this like this. I want to be with you. That's the only thing I'm certain about right now."

Bellamy nodded, "I want you happy. If this helps you get there, I'm all for it, babe, but we don't have to. We can watch a movie or I could cook dinner instead."

Clarke sighed and climbed off his lap and she watched Bellamy take that as an answer, standing to leave when she stopped him with a forceful hand on his chest. "Pants."

His expression changed so quickly, Clarke thought they'd never stop, his face was an open book and it was one of the things that she loved (and for the last seven weeks somewhat hated) about him, confusion then pain then joy, Bellamy's wanted this far longer than she's allowed herself to admit knowing about. She could find sexual tension building since that first moment they met, she didn't remember much about it aside from the spark and she hated how she shrugged that moment off after it happened. Tucked him into the abrasive asshole file in her brain and let every other detail fade away until the next semester when they had economics together.

His face finally landed on hunger, the lustful kind, and Clarke gave him a look, challenging him to defy her. He didn't, his hands fidgeting with the button before pulling down the zipper, its' fluctuating purr causing Clarke's breath to hitch.

"Clarke…" Bellamy started but she shook her head and pushed his pants and boxers down. She didn't look at him, feeling that if she did, she'd back out. It's been too long and he's more experienced, which she never thought was a problem until this very moment where she's psyching herself out over everything. She wants him, more than anybody she's ever wanted, and because some other man violated her, she can't be with who she wants. Can't please the man she loves even when she wants to. "Condom?" he asked, his hand caressing her cheek.

Nodding, Clarke realized that she had tears pooling and she quickly blinked them away while Bellamy moved around the bed to get a condom. Why didn't he question the tears? Why is he letting her be so strange about it all?

He sat on the side of his bed as he looked in his side table for a condom and once her tears were gone Clarke went to him and sat next to him. "I'm sorry I'm being so weird."

"You're fine. You forget that I know you and know that you wouldn't still be here if you didn't want this."

"That doesn't mean that I'm not freaking out."

"I'm aware. We don't need sex to be together—friends or more—if you're not comfortable with it. I just need you in my life."

Clarke sighed, she wanted to look at him but this was so much and she wanted to hold on to him, a reminder that he's really here, so she wrapped her arms around his bicep, dropping her head to his shoulder. "You shouldn't have to settle for anything less than what you really want."

"Our friends considered us a package deal long before I could even admit I had feelings for you. Long before you left, while you were with Finn, it's not going to change unless we're never going to talk again."

"Not talking to you for three years sucked," she agreed.

"It certainly did. Take as much time as you need, don't force yourself into something you're not ready for."

Clarke stood abruptly, her decision made and her fingers hastily struggled with the button of her shorts before giving up and tugged them down, her damp panties going with them as they fell to her ankles.

Bellamy's jaw dropped and Clarke knew it was due to her boldness, not because he hasn't seen her nearly naked, he's seen her in a bikini and this was almost like that just without bottoms.

He licked his lips as his eyes rolled over her body. She's still wearing her bra and she wasn't about to remove it herself, she wants to know how good Bellamy actually is, not the reputation that precedes him. She had to look away from him, the look in his eyes, on his face, was too much for her to take in on top of it all. Her eyes landed on the open drawer and found the condoms tucked under an old movie ticket. She grabbed the box of condoms, the movie ticket coming with them and Clarke looked at Bellamy once she realized what movie it was.

"I thought I was asking you out and then you showed up with Raven and Monty… I thought you were telling me you weren't interested in being more than friends with me."

"You invited me to see the Winter Soldier, specifically that movie. I wanted it to be a date, but then Raven asked where I was going and, well, you know the rest."

"Our friends are cock blocking assholes," he chuckled.

Clarke laughed, handing Bellamy a single condom.

Once the condom was on, he leaned backwards on one arm braced on the mattress behind him and the other on his bare thigh, reminding her that he's completely naked. He looked relaxed for her with half expectancy and half caution.

"Is there any way that I can make his easier for you?"

Clarke shook her head, placing her hands on his shoulders as she straddled him. His hand moved from his thigh to her waist as her lips crashed onto his, distracting herself from what's about to happen.

Reaching between them, she guided herself down into his shaft and a shuttering sigh left her lips only to be sucked in between Bellamy's. She's tight around him, but it felt nice, promising, she's going to be okay.

After a moment she began to move, struggling slightly with moving the right way. The intimacy a little too intense and too soon but she needs to do this. She needs to prove more to herself than anyone else that Emerson doesn't have a hold on her from prison, that she can move past what happened without running away—though that might be for Bellamy as well. Her face broke into a grimace at the awkwardness of her position. "Bell—" she pleaded and his hands went to her hips, helping her move at the excruciatingly slow pace to start them out at.

"That's it, Princess," he reassured her in that low bass tone of his that somehow grew impossibly deeper with hunger. It'd typically make her toes curl and set a fire inside her that'd spread at an insane pace, but she still wasn't ready for all this. She may be in a controlling position but she was slowly breaking, she won't get off, just bide her time until Bellamy does, he deserves it for putting up with her insanity.

She caught sight of his expression, his face warped in a kind of pleasure that endorsed that she's doing more than okay. His hooded lids open and his lips part to egg her on with words to aid her to no avail.

Forcing a surprised moan reverberated in her throat when he thrust upward to meet her slow rocking and if this happened months earlier that would have caused her to fall over the cliff calling out his name in ecstasy. She loved him and she wanted to give this to him so when his face was buried in the nape of her neck, she moved quicker, bringing his orgasm to fruition quicker than either of them wanted. If this were a normal situation, she'd thought that Bellamy would've been embarrassed with how quickly he came, but this wasn't normal.

Bellamy slumped back onto the mattress, taking Clarke with him and she laid on top of him, his cock softening inside her as she tried not to cry. His fingers stroked her spine as Clarke tried hiding her face from him in his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked softly, toying at her bra strap.

No. "Yeah," she said weakly, climbing off him and onto the other side of the bed, her back to him.

"Clarke, I—we don't need this to be us, you know that, right?"

"But how are we supposed to enjoy this if we don't try?" she countered though she knew what he meant. It's only been seven weeks since it happened, seven weeks with another man forcing her compliance, breaking her trust and courage.

"You're right, but maybe this was too soon."

"When will it be okay?" her voice broke and Bellamy sighed behind her.

"When you're really ready. Not when you think you're supposed to be ready. Trauma, just like grief, has no time limit."

"And you're just going to be okay with that? Not being with me?"

"I don't know to make you believe that I'm always going to be here for you. You, Clarke, that's all I want. Sex is a plus, but that's not where we are and I'm okay with that."

Clarke rolled over and looked at him, still lying on his back, his head turned, looking at the back of her now turned head. His eyes were full of affection and worry and serenity that Clarke knew he was serious, he didn't care about the physicality as long as she was in this with him. She was.

She moved into his side, her head on his chest and his arms wrapped around her loosely. They didn't need to say anything, they're together and that's what they cared about.

"Tell me about the day we met," she whispered, tracing an invisible doodle on his chest with her nails.

"What?"

"I want to know your side of it."

Bellamy scoffed, "The day we met? You were a know-it-all asshole," he chuckled, pressing a whisper of a kiss to her temple. "We were registering for classes, you were on the phone and said something stuck up to whoever it was—Wells, I think—and I scoffed and we had this big ridiculous dick measuring contest that neither of us won and I called you Princess too many times, I could have worn out that nickname that day alone, but I like it too much and it worked you up more and more and I thought that if anything were to come out of it and the rubbing together of your legs it'd be sleeping with you.

"I was an asshole back then and I certainly didn't know how important you'd be to me barely a year later. I jerked off in the bathroom to the image of you in that little white skirt."

Clarke chuckled at the thought of him rushing through registration to get his hand wrapped around his dick, her eyes moving down his torso to his half hard erection.

"I took it off when you were distancing yourself from me," he said about the missing condom and continued with the description of the first time they met. "I think I hated you without knowing why, I didn't know I could be so sexually frustrated from an argument."

"I had the opposite reaction and Finn wasn't too pleased about that, accused me of cheating on him and not being attracted enough to him. It was days of arguments with him before I realized that it wasn't him I was wanting to pick a fight with."

"And then Raven?"

Clarke sighed and smiled, "And then Raven."

"You know, sometimes I don't think we would have stopped fighting if it weren't for her interference."

"We wouldn't have stopped fighting against what we truly believe because the other shared the same opinion on the matter. She called us out. We fought because we didn't know what else to do with each other."

"I probably loved you then, but I didn't know what loving someone was like aside from loving Octavia and this is definitely not that." He paused, or maybe it felt like that because Clarke didn't know what to say. It was the second time he told her and the second time she froze instead of saying it back. "Then a semester later, I was the only senior in the pre-rec Econ class and I hated that I didn't know anyone and thought harassing the princess from last semester's registration would be a better choice than sitting alone and noticeably being the oldest student in the room.

"You had smudged red lipstick on, like you put it on and while kissing someone goodbye it smeared and you tried fixing it but the intense pigment wouldn't allow it so it was smudged, and status-preaching pearl earrings. I hated them."

"Lexa," Clarke nodded, remembering. That was a whole other depressing clusterfuck of a story.

"She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Bellamy quipped.

Clarke chuckled then sighed, "I'm sorry."

"We'll get there," he stated, giving her a quick squeeze.

* * *

 **3 Months Later (November):**

They got there, rather she got there.

"Bellamy," she sighed, fingers grasping tightly to the bedsheets. "Oh! Bell—please!"

He chuckled against her clavicle, his tongue doing devilish things to her delicate and too pale skin. His fingers were curling and pumping deep inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge, but she really needed him to stop assaulting her throat.

"My mother," Clarke was able to get our before his fingers pulled another deep, throaty moan from her, her eyes rolling back

"Not an image I need right now," he groaned, licking her salty, sweaty skin.

"You're meeting her tomorrow—holy…. FUCK! Always do that!—do you really think bite marks on my throat is going to put you on her good side?"

Bellamy pulled back, his fingers froze inside her (maybe they should try ice) as he looked down at Clarke on full display under him. "Keeping her daughter relaxed is my top priority and this is the best and most enjoyable way to make that happen."

"I know, I'm completely enjoying myself—please, keep moving your fingers—but I really don't think either of us need to hear her inane lecture about STI's and babies."

He did as she asked and was slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her, driving her even more insane than she thought possible. "What?"

"She's… look, I don't know," she squealed, her breath catching at the end. "I would just rather not argue over something as trivial as a hickey."

"Trivial?" he countered, withdrawing his fingers fully and Clarke looked between their bodies at his shimmering fingers, groaning, her hips bucking with desperate need.

"God, you know what I mean, they don't need to happen in order for the sex to be good. And if you're so inclined to ravish my body with your mouth, anywhere easily concealable would be preferable."

"Isn't this also your first time meeting Kane?"

"Oh, sure, stress me out without alleviating it. You're doing a great job maintaining your top priority," she groaned, fully taking her frustration out on him since it's now all his fault.

"You really don't want to bite the hand that feeds you," he smirked, hand dropping to cup her.

"I want to bite you."

"Mm, yeah? Let's do that for a while," Bellamy smirked and before Clarke could even question his meaning, he had them flipped over on the mattress and Clarke was on top of him, grinding herself down onto his boxer-clad erection.

Clarke smirked, kissing Bellamy once before removing the rest of their clothes.

* * *

"They loved me," Bellamy said five minutes after pulling out of the driveway, on their way back across town to his house.

"You should have heard about what my mom said about my neck," she scolded.

"Oh, please. You loved everything we did last night, you can't pretend I didn't drive you crazy."

Clarke rolled her eyes, "In the most infuriating way, Yes."

"God, even after getting you to scream my name for hours straight, you still deny me. I love you too."

Clarke shot her head over to Bellamy and gaped at him. Cat got her tongue and she just stared until he turned his head to look at her at a stoplight.

"Come on, Princess, you… you don't have to say it until you're ready. I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything, she didn't know what to exactly say that could make not being able to say those three small, impactful words back even slightly okay. It wasn't that she didn't feel it, so why couldn't she say it?

* * *

 **Six Months Later (May):**

Clarke rolled out of bed, in desperate need of coffee and the bacon that she smelled, the combination of aromas thoroughly intoxicating as she stumbled out of the bedroom and down the short hallway to the kitchen, finding Bellamy milling about, hating having idle hands.

She grabbed her chipped white and pink princess mug out of the cabinet, pouring herself a cup and drinking her first cup black. "Morning," she sighed, leaning against the counter where he was cooking eggs on the back burner.

"Hey, I was thinking about going to the—" Clarke stopped him short by pressing her lips to his. She needed him to know. She needed him to know how she felt and how much she appreciated him for giving her time and space while she worked through it all because he will never know what it was like, how invalidating and dehumanizing those hours felt and that it changed how she looked at everything, even him. She's still insanely in love with him but it's difficult to actually say it, make it real.

"I love you," she whispered, looking into his slowly opening eyes, his impossibly long lashes. She surprised him. Their foreheads pressed together and he sighed when he smiled and even though Clarke could only see the crinkles in his eyes that matched a certain sparkle in them, she knew his smile was radiant.

"I know."

"No, Bellamy. No one else would have done what you have for me. I—I can't thank you enough, I could thank you every moment for the rest of our lives and it still wouldn't be enough."

He touched her waist gingerly, as though she were going to break. "You'd do the same for me. That's what we do, balance each other."

"You…" she needed a moment to search for the right words. She needed to make sure they were powerful and showed him that every word, no matter how small weighed more than their Scrabble value. "You center me."

"I will take that over 'I love you' any day."

"It could be ours," she smiled, cupping his strong cheek, feeling like nothing could touch her, completely safe with Bellamy.

"God, I missed your smile."

"I missed having a reason to smile."

Bellamy pulled the eggs off the burner, leaving them there to ignore and get cold. "What caused this welcome revelation?"

Clarke sighed, pulling away to really look at him for the first time that morning. "I can't let him control my life, my happiness. He doesn't get that, I get to control that and I want to be happy. I want to be happy with you."

* * *

 **One Year Later (May):**

"I love you," Clarke smiled, the words getting easier and easier over the year.

Bellamy was dropping her off at work, Luna rented her the space above the gallery so she wouldn't muck up Bellamy's floors, no matter how accidental.

"You center me," he smirked. He was goading her, every time one of them said it, they wound up in bed together and it wasn't that Clarke was against it at that current juncture in time, he has to get to work and she has a show coming up in Raleigh that she had to prepare for.

She rolled her eyes, "You're coming here after work?"

"Yes. Do you want coffee or anything?"

"I'll text you at two. I might just have Murphy take me home if I get done early, I'll let you know."

"You're close with Murphy?"

"You know this. He's an asshole, but he's a good guy. You were friends with him, you should know."

Bellamy nodded, "I love you."

"Get going, you're going to be late," she smiled, leaning over the center console to kiss him goodbye.

The kiss was swift and sweet and, as per usual, left Clarke wanting more, happy that it has that effect after everything.

She ran into the building, avoiding the rain as much as possible. She loved the rain, but sometimes it was too much.

* * *

There was a knock on the door that if Clarke wasn't listening for, she would have missed it under the music she always blasted to keep her focused. "Hey," Murphy said in the doorway as Clarke was cleaning her brushes for the day.

"Hey, are you going that way?"

"Always business with you, huh, Griffin?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and turned to him as his eyes were latched on her latest work. "Only with you."

"Yeah, you know I always offer when I head that way, can't have you walking across town."

"I appreciate it."

"Bellamy does too, he almost kicked my ass the first time. Almost."

"You're with Emori, what more do you need?"

"Apparently a snarky blonde," he smirked. "You almost ready?"

"Yeah. Can we stop on the way?"

"Harper's?"

"You can't tell me you don't love Shay, he's the sweetest baby in the world," Clarke cooed, placing the freshly washed brushes in their jar before going into the bathroom to change her pants so she doesn't accidentally get paint on Murphy's worn leather seats.

"He reminds me why I spend money on condoms," he said through the door. "What's that painting of?"

"You're an ass and it represents how I'm feeling about Bellamy right now, I think. Why?"

"It's a ring… I don't think it's an engagement ring, but it's definitely a band of some sort. You planning on trapping him?"

"You trapping Emori?"

"Condoms."

Clarke stepped out of the bathroom in a change of clothes, that definitely didn't look cleaner, everything she owns has paint on them, it's just a matter of if the paint's dry or not. "You're such an asshole. You don't want to marry her?"

"We're in a good place, why change that?"

Clarke rolled her eyes as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. "It's your relationship. Let's go."

* * *

They stopped in Harper's and Clarke order her usual and a chocolate croissant for Murphy, no matter how much he groans about not eating them, she knows he does because Emori texted her a picture of him eating them almost every time. Shay was sleeping in Harper's office so Clarke didn't get to see him, but she talked to Harper a little bit about watching him one day, see if the whole baby thing was something Clarke could handle, knowing that Bellamy was going to want one.

"Seriously?" Murphy groaned when Clarke got back in car, handing him the pastry bag.

"Just showing my appreciation."

"I'm going to tell Blake that you want to marry him."

Clarke scoffed, "He knows."

Three hours later, Bellamy walked into the house and collapsed on the couch next to Clarke, deliciously shirtless.

"Not that I'm complaining, but where's your shirt?" she asked, curling into him.

"I wanted to cuddle with you and the damn rain is back and having you curled into my side with a damp shirt on is very uncomfortable and makes my skin feel weird from the extensive dampness."

Clarke chuckled as Bellamy kissed her temple. "You're such a dork."

"You were watching Shameless without me?"

"No, I fell asleep three episodes ago and I was lost when we watched last night, so I was just catching up on what I missed."

"That's allowed. How's Murphy?"

"Dissuaded by Shay and aggravated over chocolate croissants, so Murphy."

Bellamy huffed, "You goad him."

"He makes it too easy."

"I ordered Thai."

"Marry me?" Clarke asked without thinking and froze. Of course Murphy planted the idea in her head that afternoon, but she didn't think she'd act on it.

"Yes. I was going to ask you next week when the ring came back from being resized."

Clarke sighed, twisting on the couch to look directly at Bellamy, sitting on her heels. "I—fucking Murphy!" she groaned.

"Uh, okay? Not the response I was looking for."

"He was criticizing the painting I finished today and put marriage in my head. I know I want to marry you, but we hadn't talked about it or kids or our future. I know you want kids, but we haven't talked about any of it."

"Do you want to talk about it? Pretend the last minute hasn't happened and talk about everything first?"

"You want kids?"

"Three."

Clarke nodded, "I could do three."

"Maybe two and adopt one, I don't know, I always thought adoption would be a good thing to do."

"We can discuss that after we have one."

Bellamy nodded, "You're good with marriage?"

"I'm in love with you, yes."

Bellamy smiled. "Good, then it's settled. We'll get married and have a kid, how long do you think that'll be?"

"Nine months…"

"You know what I meant, how long do you want to wait before we try for kids?"

"A year after we're married. I—I don't want a big wedding, I could go to town hall right now and do it. I don't want a fancy wedding."

"Your mom?"

"You know she'll take over and make it her vision and I just want you there. We can call O and Lincoln for witnesses. They're family."

"You know our friends will go ballistic if we get married without them even knowing we're engaged."

"What if we have a reception, we don't tell them it's a reception, just a party in a banquet hall, semi-formal dress, invite my mother and Kane and Jaha too and announce it then? Have O and Lincoln walk in ahead of us, driving together from the court house, and introduce us as the Griffin-Blakes. No offense, but Clarke Blake? Horrible, like Jarrett Barrett.

"Do you know a Jarrett Barrett?"

"No, sounds like a hillbilly name. I heard it somewhere though probably Polis."

"I like your plan. Are you sure that's what you want to do though? You won't regret having a small wedding?"

"Yes, and because it's also saving money, we can spend my trust fund—shut up—on a nice down payment on a house. I have a love/hate relationship with this apartment."

"No that's—it's your money, Clarke," he grimaced for less than a second before his face went neutral again.

"It's our money and will be our house for our family."

"You're serious?"

"Bellamy, I could never be more certain about us than I am right now," her voice faltered, because his uncertainty was making her nervous. "Are you?"

"Yes, of course, I just thought we'd spend more time discussing it and I'd actually have a ring for you when we got engaged."

Clarke smiled, "I don't need a ring to know that I'm yours."

"Yeah, but the assholes in the world won't leave you alone if we don't have a ring on that pretty finger of yours."

Clarke chucked, "I'll fight them all off."

Bellamy laughed, "Get over here, fiancé, I need to kiss you."

Clarke easily straddled his lap and kissed him until the Thai food delivery guy knocked on the door.


End file.
